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 11

Riding in the same vehicle with Natasha, Cooper, Weston and Smith, Bruce watched the scenery scroll by without really seeing it. Exhaustion nibbled at the edges of his consciousness and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep with Natasha beside him and have them wake up together in the shack he'd been using as a clinic in Brazil. The only drawback to that scenario is that Theo wouldn't be with them.

As it stood, it would be months before he could return, and each day brought the possibility that people like Jairo and the pregnant woman could die because they had no one with the medical knowledge to help them. And though he knew that his efforts amounted to just a small percentage of those who needed care, he still believed as he always had, that one person can make a difference.

Weston pulled to a stop behind the SUV salvaged from HYDRA jerking Bruce out of his wayward thoughts. Jenks got out, locked the vehicle, dropped the key and a note into the mailbox of the children's home, and came to join them, scooting into the back seat.

As Weston pulled away from the curb, he said, "Good idea, giving all that food and clothing to the kids, Jenks."

The other man shrugged off the praise. "I grew up in foster care. The people were nice, but there wasn't much to go around. Our government programs are a load of bull****. I figure it's probably the same here."

There was no good response to that statement so Bruce crossed his arms and let his head fall back against the headrest, and very soon, he'd fallen asleep.

The Hamptons

The yellow cab crawled up the curved driveway past a meticulously maintained lawn, coming to a stop behind a black Jaguar parked next to a white Lexus, both new within the last year. The passenger let himself out and went to the trunk, joined by the driver. He exchanged cash for his luggage, a single leather suitcase, and waited until the cab was gone to ring the bell.

The front door was opened by a woman in her thirties wearing a gray and white uniform. She looked him over, her expression giving nothing away of what she was thinking, "May I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to the lady of the house, please. It's a personal matter."

"Your name, sir?"

One side of his mouth turned upward in a smile. "Just say 'Go Warthogs'. She'll know who it is."

With a nod, the woman went to the phone on the table next to the stairs. She spoke briefly and replaced the handset. "Come with me, please."

She opened one side of a set of double doors. He entered and she closed the door behind him. Instead of taking a seat on one of the richly upholstered sofas and chairs, he wondered around the room, stopping to examine framed photographs on the mantel and tables. Most of them were family photos with the same three people, a man, a woman and a young girl at various ages. Eventually, the man disappeared as later photos showed the girl graduating high school and college with only the woman at her side.

A brass urn had a place of honor on a table near the window that looked out onto the garden. Beside it was a photo of the man, alone and smiling, relaxed in a lounge chair with a glass of iced tea in one hand.

The door opened and closed behind him. Then, a voice from his past said, "Hello, Nick."

Putting on a smile, Nick Fury turned to face the woman he hadn't seen since college. "Hello, Gina. Long time, no see."

The last time Fury had set eyes on Gina DeLuca, she'd been asleep, her dark hair spread over the white pillowcase. He'd gotten up in the middle of the night and left without saying good-bye. Now, her black hair had strands of white running through it, but she was still as beautiful as the day they met.

He had no idea what sort of reception he'd receive just showing up out of the blue, though he doubted she'd welcome him with open arms. More likely, she'd slap his face and send him packing. To his surprise, she did neither.

Gina crossed the room, her eyes never leaving his face. When she stopped in front of him, he took off the sunglasses that hid his ruined left eye. Gina glanced at the scar then down at the urn. When their eyes met again, she smiled. "It's good to see you."

"And you. What's it been, thirty-two years?"

"As of this past spring, yes." She gestured and he took a seat on the sofa facing the fireplace while she sat in an armchair. "What brings you to my little corner of the world? Are you on vacation?"

"Recently retired, and looking for a place to settle."

The door opened, and the woman from before came in. Gina nodded and stood. "You've always had impeccable timing, Nick. We were just about to sit down to dinner. Would you care to join us?"

"Us?"

"You remember my daughter Naomi. She was three the last time you saw her. Well, at the age of twenty-five, she became the youngest staff psychologist ever to work for the Denver Police Department. She's been with them for eight years, and has just come home for a visit."

Fury gestured for Gina to lead the way. "I would very much like to see her again."

Laughing, Gina stopped with her hand on the doorknob of the dining room. "Fair warning. She'll try to psychoanalyze you, and she's very good at it. You don't even know what's happening until it's too late."

With an internal smirk, Fury replied, "I'll try not to let her trick me into revealing hidden skeletons."

The Playground

"Director?"

Still not used to his new title, Coulson didn't react until Hill came to stand beside him. He glanced at her then back to the view. Instead of real windows that looked out onto clouds or the surrounding landscape like those on the bus, his office at the secret base only showed a hologram of the outside world. Most of The Playground was underground and heavily fortified. It was also protected from being scanned by satellites and didn't show on any hard-copy maps. The only way to find this place was to program GPS with the coordinates, provided you had the coordinates in the first place.

Coulson crossed his arms. "You used to call me Phil. What's changed?"

"You're the director now. That's what's changed."

"Friends call each other by their first names." Hill looked down then back to his face, her lips pursed as if to keep from speaking out of turn. Coulson had seen her do it with Fury. "We are still friends, aren't we?"

Hill's hands went behind her back. "Your choice, sir."

"Damn straight." He turned to face his friend, one eyebrow raised in annoyance. "So, you traveled all the way from Budapest to talk semantics?"

The pole Hill had up her backside dissolved and she smiled. "I've received a message from my contact at the safe house. They're on the way. Should be here in two to three days at most. Barton and Romanoff were especially pissed that I wouldn't divulge the name of the new director."

Coulson unbuttoned his jacket and spread the sides to jam his fists into his hips. "Not telling the Avengers I'm alive was Fury's order, and it made sense at the time. You could've made a judgment call and brought them into the loop."

"True, but it'll be so much more entertaining for me to see your face when you see their faces seeing you alive when they thought you were dead."

Coulson shook his head. "When I figure out what that means, I'll respond with a sassy, smartass come-back that will have you in therapy for years. Clue Koenig in on what to expect when they get here and have quarters made ready. A double for Banner and Romanoff."

At the door, Hill faced him again. "By the way, you lost the pool again."

Shrugging, Coulson settled behind the desk. "Easy come, easy go."

"Rogers, Stark and Thor will be here in a few days."

"Not looking forward to any of those conversations." He reached for a bottle of water and twisted off the top. "Ward is our only HYDRA prisoner at the moment. No one is to be left alone with him, especially not the Avengers or any member of my team."

Hill pursed her lips again, this time to keep from grinning. "Of course, director."

When the door closed behind Hill, Coulson rocked in his chair. There was so much work that had to be done in the rebuilding of SHIELD, starting with a firmer foundation. He had motivation and drive to get the job done, and soon, he'd have all the help he needed. But for now, he just wanted to sit quietly and think.

Fifty-three Hours Later

17.3 Miles Outside of Destiny Point

The caravan of five off-road vehicles came to a stop, one beside the other. As if they'd choreographed it, all doors opened at once, disgorging a total of twenty-one SHIELD agents, on civilian doctor, and one ex-HYDRA agent.

Natasha didn't have to look around to know that the entire group was waiting for something to happen. Not knowing what that might be she thought it best to be cautious. "Bruce?"

He nodded once and retreated to the rear of the 4WD vehicle they'd ridden in with Clint, Yates and Antal. Clint crossed his arms and planted his feet shoulder width apart.

"Now what?" Antal asked with a furtive glance at their surroundings. There was only forest as far as the eye could see. Not one human artifact marred the pristine landscape.

"We wait."

A few minutes later, hidden weapons turrets rose out of their nests, red targeting lasers shining red dots on the agents accompanied by a mechanical voice. "Weapons on the ground. Hands in the air."

Once they'd done as the voice directed, it spoke again. "Step forward one at a time and identify yourselves. Beginning with…"

Several of the red dots came to rest in the center of Natasha's chest. She looked down at them then back at the unseen cameras, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead to join a grin. "Men'a zovut Natasha Romanoff, Chernaya Vdova, Natalia Romanova, i drugiye. Xotite potancevat?"

The voice didn't respond immediately. When it did, the answer surprised everyone. "I'll save a place for you on my dance card at the Winter Festival, Agent Romanoff."

When the red dots sought him out, Bruce moved through the crowd, hands hanging at his side. "Dr. Robert Bruce Banner. Sometimes known as the Other Guy or the, uh, Hulk. And Tasha's dance card is full."

Natasha took his hand. "Yes, it is plyushevyy mishkamoya."

There were a few stifled snickers from their companions and the voice said, "Did she just call you 'teddy bear'?"

Bruce looked down at Natasha with an affectionate smile. "Yes, she did."

Clint took Bruce's place, deliberately hooked his thumbs into his belt, one hip stuck out to the side. "Clinton Frances Barton, AKA the Amazing Hawkeye and a bunch of other aliases. Everything else is need-to-know."

He nodded to Cooper. "Josiah Alexander Cooper. I have a few AKAs too. You want 'em?"

"That won't be necessary."

The red dots moved on to the next person. "Christina Marie Yates…"

~~O~~

Careful to keep his hands in sight at all times, the man known as Martin Antal waited his turn with the mysterious voice. He considered lying, but only for a moment. The people on the other end had to be running everything through a sophisticated identification program for verification. Probably got samples of our DNA from the air too.

Finally, the red dots appeared on his chest. With a quick glance at Yates, Barton and Romanoff, he moved out into the open away from the others just in case something happened, like he was shot through the heart. He didn't want anyone else getting hurt. "I've gone by the names Johan Schneider, Jason Ellis, Robbie Duncan, Connor Walsh, and most recently Martin Antal. But the name given to me at birth is James Matthias Decker. Matt to my family and friends. I was born May 14, 1973 in Chicago, Illinois to William and Audrey Decker. I'm an only child."

There was a long pause, and Matt imagined a stern-faced man with military short hair and square shoulders doing a computer search, every last moment of Matt's life appearing on the monitors in front of him. The names of his family back at least five generations, pictures, birth certificates, social security numbers, IRS records, medical records, everything.

Without being told, Matt continued, "Until seven years and three months ago, I worked for TechNet International as a liaison and translator for the European offices. I speak Hungarian, German, Italian, French and Gaelic.

"My mother became ill in 2004, and eventually the insurance dropped her. Out of desperation, I made some bad decisions which ultimately did no good as she died a short time later. After I was laid off during the economic downturn, I was approached by someone who said he and his employers could help me out of my financial difficulties. All I had to do is go where they told me to go, keep my eyes open and report what I saw. By the time I found out I was working for HYDRA, I was in too deep. When I tried to leave, they made it so that no one would hire me. Until a few days ago, I couldn't see a way out. So, whatever you want to do to me, go ahead. It can't be any worse than being forced to commit treason."

"That's more than enough, Mr. Decker. In fact, it's too much information."

"I don't want you to think I'm hiding anything."

"And we appreciate the effort. However, we'll still verify everything you've told us, and plan to tell us in the future." A faint vibration started under their feet, and they all took a step back when the ground opened in front of them. "Please come inside. The valet will take care of your vehicles."

Matt returned to Chris's side, an arm around her waist. With Barton, Romanoff and Banner leading, the group walked down the ramp to an open area that branched off to the left, their footsteps echoing from the walls. They kept going until they reached a door that slid aside as they approached. In this new area they found a bank of lifts with the doors open. As soon as the lifts were full, the doors closed. Matt's stomach did a little bounce due to the speed with which they descended, but he was fine by the time they came to a stop.

The doors opened and they were greeted by Maria Hill. She was standing beside a portly gentleman in a suit, both backed up by a squad of heavily armed soldiers. Hill's eyes scanned the crowd and came back to the three Avengers in the front. With a twinkle in her brown eyes, she said, "Welcome to the Playground, boys and girls. This is Billy Koenig. He will be issuing security lanyards to each of you on a case by case basis."

Koenig smiled blandly, gesturing two of the guards forward. "Our first order of business is you, Mr. Decker. Please accompany these gentlemen to our guest quarters."

Guest quarters equals detention area. Matt took a deep breath, slanting his eyes over to Chris when she brushed the back of his hand with a finger. She nodded once then he separated from her, presenting his hands for the cuffs. The position left him facing Hill. She pursed her lips for a moment as if working out something in her head, but if everything he'd heard about her was true-and he had no reason to think otherwise-she was doing it for show. "Your neighbor's not in a talkative mood these days. He's still recovering from a fractured larynx. You might know him. Grant Ward."

The name wasn't familiar to Matt. "Sorry. My missions were solo. I've only met a few others assigned the same handler." At Hill's skeptical huff, he rolled his eyes. "It's not like we hung out on our days off, Commander. I only spoke to my handler on the phone a few times a year. The rest of the time we communicated via email. I've never met her in person. I'm not even certain she's a she. I was considered a low-level operative and not privy to most of what went on with HYDRA. I'm sorry again if it's not good enough for you, but I will tell you everything I know."

One of Hill's eyebrows lifted, all trace of humor replaced with an eerie, almost evil glint. "Yes, you will."

Those three words had so much ice in them, Matt literally shivered as the guards led him to the lifts. And he was certain the frisson of foreboding was just the sensation of the car descending farther into the complex. Wasn't it?

~~O~~

So, Martin Antal's real name was Matthias Decker. The personal information he'd given to the security system had been easy to substantiate along with everything else he'd told them about himself. Natasha knew as well as any of them how easy it was for lies to appear to be the truth. If anything was found to refute Decker's claims of how he'd gotten involved with HYDRA, the man would go to prison for the rest of his life.

Natasha knew Decker's regret was genuine, though nothing excused his actions during the insurrection. The only fly in the ointment was that Decker had been in Budapest for over a year when everything hit the fan. There was no way he could've taken part in the DC disaster. But he had to have known that Senator Pearce was their leader and about project Insight, even if all he knew was of its existence.

It may not have been rational to everyone else, but Natasha believed Decker wanted to do right by SHIELD, and Clint agreed, as did Yates. How long the man spent in detention would be determined by the director.

When the lift doors closed behind Decker and the guards, Clint took a step forward, crossed his arms and stated, "We're done screwin' around, Hill. Take us to the director."

Natasha smirked at Clint's aggressiveness. He was only saying what everyone else was thinking, but he wasn't always the most diplomatic. "What my ex-partner is trying to say is please take us to our leader."

Hill touched her headset to indicate she was listening to someone. She again met each set of eyes, and strangely, smiled with what most would take as affection though she would deny it. "The director will see you now."

~~O~~

The group followed Hill down another hallway that seemed to be a dead end. As they approached, the entire wall slid to the side, opening onto an enormous hangar that was occupied by a large plane. Clint stumbled to a stop with his mouth open. Placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, Bruce whispered, "Clint? You okay?"

"Yeah." The archer pointed at the plane, his eyes taking in every line from nose to tail. "Wow. It's a bus." Tightening his grip on Barton's shoulder brought the archer out of his near-trance. "There was talk a few years back of building a small fleet of planes to be used by SHIELD specialty teams. Didn't know they'd gone live."

Clearing her throat, Hill drew attention back to herself, and Barton reluctantly faced her again. "As of now those of you who were level six or below, your security clearance has been raised to level seven. I know that some of you are already well above that, but what you're going to see today was need-to-know. Until now, you didn't have the need, and I wasn't cleared to bring you in."

Bruce stood between Natasha and Barton, with the former partners a half step back as if silently endorsing him as their leader. He didn't want the job, but to say so now would only draw attention they didn't need, and way more than the situation warranted. Instead, he accepted the appointment by taking a full step forward. "If you don't mind, Commander, could we move this along? The drive from town was long and arduous. We're hungry, thirsty and tired. Agent Yates just had surgery. I'll need to examine her."

With no sign that she thought it odd that he was speaking for their group, Hill nodded. "Of course, Dr. Banner." She touched her headset. "The director will be here soon."

Behind him, the others were whispering, once again making predictions as to the identity of the director. They'd done the same on the ride out, not coming to any firm conclusions then or now.

All talk ended when Koenig returned surprising them as no one had seen him leave. A handful of lanyards dangled from one hand. He walked through the group handing them out. "These have limited-access. You can go places like the living quarters, the cafeteria, gym, medical bay and most common areas. You will not, however, be permitted to enter the armory, this hangar bay, the any of the labs or the Command Center unless escorted by someone with the proper clearance. Once the director has signed off, you'll be provided with your permanent security badges. If you need anything, dial *199 from the landlines found in your rooms and throughout the complex."

Koenig nodded and walked away. Bruce watched him go, surprised when Barton chuckled. In a deep, booming voice, the archer said, "In fearful day, in raging night, with strong hearts full, our souls ignite. When all seems lost in the war of light, look to the stars, for hope burns bright!"

Hill's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Clint tucked his hands into his armpits and shifted all weight onto one foot. Over the years, Bruce had come to know this as a signal that the archer wasn't sensing danger. "I thought we could use a motto."

"Agent Barton is having a laugh at your expense, Commander. He just recited the oath of the Blue Lanterns. They are one of the nine corps empowered by a specific color of the emotional spectrum. The Blue Lanterns are powered by hope."

All conversation stopped at hearing the disembodied voice coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as dramatic music floated through the air. Bruce recognized the voice just as the others had, but then he'd spoken to its owner as recently as six months ago. A quick glance left and right and he could tell that Barton and Natasha's vital signs had jumped off the scale. Before anyone could find their voice again, slow and steady footsteps came out of the darkness, echoing in the huge underground chamber just as Phil Coulson stepped into the light. In his right hand, Coulson held a digital recorder. He shut it off, silencing the music and remarking with a smile, "I've always wanted to do that."

~~O~~

Nearly every thought in Clint's head stuttered to a halt at the sound of the familiar voice. It can't be! Coulson died over two years ago, stabbed through the heart by Loki. Clint had spoken at his funeral. Had seen the coffin lowered into the ground and had even thrown a handful of dirt into the grave. How could he be here now?

Clint's eyes never left Coulson's as he came to a stop in front of the group. Behind him, Clint sensed shock and dismay from the others hitting him in a wave. Coulson swept his all-seeing gaze over them, stopping on Banner. He extended his hand with a smile. "Welcome to the Playground, Bruce."

"Thanks." Banner's eyes swept the room. "Love the new place, Phil."

Coulson shrugged offhandedly, as if they were best pals meeting on the street. "Bit of a fixer-upper. We're planning on painting. We'll also add a couple of throw pillows, hang a few pictures, and it'll look like new."

"It wasn't easy finding this place, but we had a good team."

"Commander Hill had a mole keeping us apprised of your progress these last couple of weeks." The smile faded to one edged with sadness. "I know you and your teammates would like to get settled. However, one of my team was injured during the unfortunate HYDRA business, and as you were involved in the early stages of testing for project TAHITI, I'd appreciate it if you'd assist our doctors."

"Of course." Banner rubbed his hands together, casting a quick glance around the room.

The light came on in the dark corner from where Coulson had emerged. A lean and very fit African-American man closed the cover of a light fixture telling Clint that Coulson had loosened the bulb on purpose. He came to stand behind and to the right of Coulson with the others.

Clint made an effort to concentrate on what Coulson was saying, saving his questions for when he cornered him later.

"I'd like you to meet my team. Pilot and specialist Melinda May," the Asian woman, dressed in black leather, nodded once, "Medic and weapons specialist, Antione Triplett. His grandfather was a member of the Howling Commandoes." The African-American man smiled, but didn't say anything. "Dr. Jemma Simmons and Dr. Leopold Fitz are the scientists. They're both indisposed at the moment. And last, but not least, Skye. She does computers." The young woman stepped forward with a smile.

Not able to help himself, Clint blurted out, "Skye what?"

Coulson and Skye exhibited eerily similar smirks, the young woman responding with, "Just Skye. Like Beyoncé, Adele, Moby, Pink."

Before Clint could say he'd never heard of any of those people, Coulson looked down at her, his smile affectionate in a fatherly way. "We have to work on that. The Director insists on everyone having a first and last name."

Skye huffed and rolled her eyes at the old argument. "Their rooms are ready, AC. Want me show them the way?"

Though she was talking to Coulson, Skye kept sneaking looks at Natasha, Banner and Clint. Yes, he knew their reputations preceded them, and they sometimes had to deal with hero worship from the ranks, but he wasn't in the mood for it. Not today. His mind was still processing the fact that Coulson, a man whose dead body he'd seen with his own eyes, was alive. It was equal parts cool and creepy. Having Coulson back was fantastic, the best news Clint had heard in a long time. But it was also unsettling. Very unsettling. A quick glance at Natasha confirmed she felt the same. And that reminded Clint that Banner had known Coulson was alive.

Turning to Triplett, Coulson said, "Trip, would you escort Dr. Banner to the medical bay? Get him something to eat and drink, and anything else he needs."

"Sure. This way please, doc." He waved an after gesture then came up beside Banner. As they turned the corner, Banner flashed a sheepish smile obviously meant for all of them, and Clint took it without making the smartass response that was on the tip of his tongue.

Skye started walking, expecting the new arrivals to follow her. With a quick glance at Natasha, Clint sped up just enough to come alongside her. His intention was to subtly interrogate Skye. "So, Skye. Tell me about yourself."

She slanted a look at him. "Like what?"

He shoved his hands into his pocket and shrugged, adding his most disarming smile. "How were you recruited into SHIELD?"

The smile she gave him in return told Clint she knew what he was up to and that she could play the game too. "I hacked into the SHIELD mainframe. AC caught me, but instead of putting me in prison for the rest of my life, he offered me a job. What about you, Agent Barton?"

Clint shrugged with studied nonchalance. "I was an assassin for hire."

Most people would stare at him for a long moment then decide he was having a joke at their expense. When they realized he was telling the truth, there would be a subtle distancing. But Skye was cut from a different cloth. She grinned. "Cool!"

~~O~~

The pleasant expression Coulson had shown to his friends and colleagues turned into a frown as soon as he and May were alone.

She came to stand at his side, also frowning. "They took it better than I thought."

He looked down into her dark brown eyes, smiling without humor. "Don't kid yourself. They're just biding their time. I expect to hear from Barton and Romanoff very soon. It won't be pretty. Probably go something like the conversation I had with Fury, but with a lot more yelling and swearing."

"Want me to intervene?"

Shaking his head, Coulson turned and headed for his office, May still at his side. "Putting off the inevitable will just make it worse. I have a conference with the new head of the council so I'll be incommunicado for at least the next three hours. After that, I'll be in my office."

When they reached his private communications room, May opened the door for him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Dealing with the oversight committee would be a piece of cake compared to what was in store for him in the near future.

Coulson waved a hand to activate the holographic system and waited for Councilwoman Hawley to call the meeting to order.

Several Hours Later

The Director's Office

Mentally and physically exhausted from the meeting with the council, Coulson entered his office, removed his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up to the elbows. He took two bottles of beer from the bar, twisted the tops off both, and spoke to the wall. "Come out of the vent and have a seat, Agent Barton."

There was a muffled thump then the office chair creaked as Barton sat down. "Keep your hands where I can see 'em and turn around."

Coulson did as requested, not at all surprised to see the muzzle of a gun pointed at him. Above it, Barton's unsmiling face hovered in the indirect lighting from the holographic window. Setting one of the open bottles on the desk, Coulson said, "Thanks for coming, Agent Barton."

The archer rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, his expression unreadable. To most, anyway. From the glint in his eyes, Coulson knew Barton was holding his emotions under tenuous control. "Not here for small talk, pal. Just tell me who you really are."

TBC

A/N: Men'a zovut Natasha Romanoff, Chernaya Vdova, Natalia Romanova, i drugiye. Xotite potancevat? = My name is Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, Natalia Romanova, and others. Would you like to dance with me?