Eli and I froze as Clint stood, pressing a finger to his lips and moving over to the window. "Natasha."

I pointed to him furiously and turned to Eli, fuming. I began mouthing threats and questions at the poor guy, who held up his hands in surrender. What the hell does he think he's doing?! They'll track us!

Well if he doesn't answer, they'll know something's up! He tried to reason with me, but I wouldn't hear it.

I don't care! I don't really fancy being strapped to a freaking examination table again!

Clint continued talking but made the 'quit it' hand sign, glaring at us both. "I tracked the girl to upstate New York, but she got away. She could be halfway to Canada by now; I'm resting for the night here and I'll be out looking for her again in the morning." A look of panic crossed his face, and I stood up, moving towards him. Before I could reach him, he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back to the bed, pointing to Eli and then to me. His brother pulled me back, one hand covering my mouth and I tried to squirm away. "Alright. Got it. I'll see you in the morning." Clint hung up the phone and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he could say a word.

"We have to get out of here," I said, yanking Eli's hand off my mouth and throwing his arms off me. "Now," I growled, daring either man to challenge me.

"Where will you go?" Clint asked, crossing his arms.

"I don't know—Canada? Anywhere but here!" I yelled, throwing out my arms in anger.

"They are on their way now; they have to stop and pick up Steve and Bruce, but they will be here by morning. Do you honestly think you could outpace them?" He yelled, causing my anger to rise.

I extended my wings in a flash, nearly knocking Eli off the bed when my left wing clipped his shoulder. "I can outfly them," I said, sounding confident and angry. There remained a shadow of doubt in my mind—my wing had only healed recently—but what other choice did I have?

"Really?" He asked, stepping closer so that there was barely any space between us. "Of the six of us, four are intent on capturing you, two are on your side. Of the four opposing you, two can fly. All are lethal. Do you honestly think you could escape them?"

"I have you," I said softly, wrapping my arms around myself as I channeled my anger away. "And Bruce and Eli."

"We won't always be there," Eli said, moving to stand in front of his brother. I stiffened, my brow drawing together. "What happens when we get into a battle; us against them. You know it'll happen eventually. They will be fighting to kill. Do you think you'll be able to kill your brother? Do you think you'll be able to kill anyone, for that matter?" Eli exclaimed, stepping up to me so that our bodies nearly touched.

Images of fallen men blazed through my mind. I shuddered as I recalled plunging a stake into a man's abdomen; pressing my foot to his chest to remove it; turning my head as his warm blood sprayed into my face and mouth.

"You know nothing about me," I snarled. My shoulders were set as if I were about to tackle him; my eyes were narrowed in anger. I swallowed. "I could kill them."

We stood face to face, neither saying a word. My blood pounded in my ears and the heat of rage radiated from my body. Both of us were breathing heavily and no one moved. Clint stood behind us, watching and waiting.

"No you couldn't," Eli said. I bit my lip and clenched my hands tightly before letting out a scream of anger and slamming my fist into the wall, making a good-sized crater. Breathing heavily, I removed my hand, shaking off the plaster dust and rubbing my bloody knuckles.

I turned back to the brothers to see Clint standing with his eyes closed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and breathing heavily.

"Please tell me that you are not so stupid as to plant that kind of evidence for them to find," he said, his voice rising at the end so that he ended up yelling. I felt myself flush in embarrassment; I honestly hadn't thought that far ahead.

"I wasn't thinking—" I started defensively.

"That is very clear!" He yelled, storming around the room.

"Why do you even care?" I screamed. "You met me a week ago, just leave! What are you waiting for?"

He turned and caught me by the neck, slamming me against the wall. His fingers squeezed my throat, making it nearly impossible for me to move or breathe. "You are naïve and selfish if you think that the only reason I'm here is for you," he hissed as I glared at him in defiance, my fingernails digging into his forearm. "I lost my brother once; I will not lose him again. However," He relaxed his grip and I fell back, breathing heavily. My throat ached. "I do stand by what I said before: children should not live in cages."

"Clint—?" Eli said, confused and worried. "What…?"

Hawkeye turned to his brother, eyes burning. "Stay with her. Do not leave this room. When morning comes, I'll meet the team outside and travel with them; hopefully they won't even come inside. Once we're gone, you take Katie and head in the opposite direction, but wait half an hour before going anywhere. Do you understand me?" He barked, staring at his brother. Eli nodded, and Clint's face softened. He bent down and picked me up, setting me on the bed. "In case we don't run into each other again, Katie, I'm sorry for what happened. It was the only way to knock any sense into you."

I didn't reply but sat rubbing my throat, keeping my eyes averted from his. He sighed and stood. "I have to go back to my room and get everything together. Stay here; under no circumstances are you to come out until after we are gone, understood?"

"Yeah, I got it," Eli said. The two brothers embraced before Clint left, and as soon as I heard the door slam, I fell back onto the bed, my hands at my throat. Eli ran over to the bed and tried to look at the damage, but I elbowed him away.

"I'm fine," I rasped, wincing at the pain in my esophagus. "It's just a bit sore."

Eli continued prying my hands out of the way, his brow drawn in concentration. "Then let me see," he said, tugging uselessly at my wrists. Relenting, I moved out of the way, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Is it bad?"

He didn't answer but moved over to the freezer and withdrew a bag of ice. Grabbing a towel, a water bottle, and a couple ibuprofens, he made his way back over to me before wrapping the ice in the rag and pressing it to the bruise. "Here," he said softly, "this will help."

I nodded in thanks and held the ice up to the throbbing bruise, wincing at the cold as I swallowed the two red pills.

"What's it like?" he asked, lying down next to me on the bed.

"What's what like?" I whispered, rolling over to face him.

He moved onto his stomach and crossed his arms under his chest, holding himself up as he figured out what words to say. "Coming back after so long and finding someone you thought was dead, someone who loved you, but doesn't remember you."

I closed my eyes. "It's terrible," I said softly. "I spent seventy years a prisoner believing my only family was dead, and I finally got away and found him… alive, and happy, and…" I trailed off and turned to look Eli in the eye. "All those years I was a weapon, an experiment, I would fantasize about Steve coming and rescuing me. I would think back to when we were younger, before he was a super soldier. Skinny Steve," I smiled. "There's a huge difference between having a brother who would give his life for you and is really too small to protect himself, and having a brother who would give his life for you but knows that he's strong enough that he doesn't have to." Eli said nothing but simply gazed at me, understanding in his eyes. He didn't interrupt, and I was grateful; I needed this off my chest. "I am nearly ninety years old," I said sadly. "And I haven't aged a day since last I saw my brother back in the forties. I feel old, though. I read a book once, by an author that was older than I by the name of Tolkien. One of the characters was one hundred and eleven years old, and he said, 'I feel… thin. Sort of stretched, like butter spread over too much bread.' I feel like that. I went seventy years believing that my brother was dead, and I ran into him at the Stark Tower a week ago. He's mentally younger than I am by half a century. Do you have any idea how that feels?" I pleaded with Eli, almost crying. I was dumping all my thoughts on him, everything I had hoped or thought in the past century. "And he doesn't remember. If he remembered me, it would be alright, maybe, but he doesn't remember me. All those years spend fantasizing about him coming to rescue me, things going back to how they were before; gone. Obliterated. It can never happen. He's a soldier, and I'm a weapon," I said, burrowing under the covers. "And that's it."

Eli lifted up the covers and peered down at me, grief etched on his face. "Katie—you're not just a weapon. You're not a weapon at all! You were used, but that doesn't make up who you are. You're so much more than what you can see. You're a warrior, a sister, a freedom fighter, someone who never gives up no matter what happens."

I closed my eyes. You're wrong, I thought. I'm a weapon, an orphan, a murderer, and a coward. I sniffed and rolled over so my back faced him, staring at the wall until I fell asleep.