Aftermath - Chapter Eleven
Author: Milady Dragon
Author's Note: One more chapter after this one, and then the next story will start posting Tuesday.
8 May 2012
New York
Ianto came in to land with a gentleness that was completely opposite of what Clint had been experiencing during the battle, and for some strange reason he was a little disappointed in that.
Once the dragon had settled onto the concrete of the plaza in front of the UN, Clint slid off, touching lightly down onto steady ground, tired in a way that only intense action can cause.
He'd lost track of how long it had taken them to put down the Cybermen. Stark had traced their communications signals back to an abandoned section of subway tunnel, and the genius, Nat, Cap, and Patrick had moved into the section of New York subway, taking out the Cybercontroller that had been relaying information to the troops that had had tried to take the United Nations.
Leaving himself, Ianto, and the Hulk to decimate the rest of the Cybermen on the surface.
Clint really thought the Hulk had had the most fun, judging from the roaring and bellowing and how many times he'd yelled, "Smash!".
The archer circled around to Ianto's front, taking in the green scales of his friend, searching for any sort of injury. He thought the dragon had taken a couple of hits, but he couldn't see anything. "You alright?" he asked, not wanting to tell Jack just how his mate had gotten damaged if he had.
Ianto shrugged, his blue cat-like eyes crinkling with internal laughter. "They didn't hurt me, I promise."
Clint had to trust him with that, but then he didn't look as if he was in any pain. The dragon sank into a crouch, legs tucked up underneath him much like Moses did when he was content. The archer watched Ianto's tail for any sort of flickiness, but there wasn't any, so either everything really was fine or else that let the cat analogy out.
"You're not gonna change back?" he asked curiously.
"I don't think so," Ianto answered. "I'd like to keep my human form out of it, if possible. The journalists are getting enough of an eyeful as it is."
He had a point. The press was out in full force, now that the battle was over. Clint could see at least half a dozen cameras pointing in their direction, and he knew the only thing that was keeping them from mobbing Ianto and demanding answers was the police cordon and Captain America, who'd returned from the hunt in the subway triumphant and was standing with Stark, who had his helmet off, answering as many questions as was being shouted at them.
Patrick had slipped by the pair, holding that damned big gun, muzzle pointed toward the ground, and was sauntering toward them. There was a smear of something blue on his cheek; from experience, Clint knew that was some sort of fluid that had the tendency to spurt from a damaged Cyberman. His suit, once pristine, was wrinkled but it didn't seem to be stained. Clint figured it was a good thing that Nat had arranged for his tac suit to be on the Quinjet, because he was less than sartorially prefect as well, but his mess was more windblown since he hadn't actually gotten close to any of the Cybermen for them to vomit blue goo on him.
"We going to leave them to it?" Patrick asked as soon as he got close enough.
"I'm considering it," the dragon replied. "We're very much surplus to needs at this point, and getting out of the public eye as soon as we possibly can will mean less of a snit Jack will be in when we get back to Cardiff."
"Well, Jack's gonna be in a pretty impressive snit, after what Rogers did."
That had both Clint and Ianto staring at Patrick. In his human form the dragon had a very impressive eyebrow, and he somehow managed to achieve the same expression even without the brows his current dragony face owned.
"I was standing next to him when he called you the Torchwood Dragon to that nice police detective who's now giving a statement to the press."
"Bloody hell," Ianto grumbled. "Please tell me you're joking."
"Afraid not, Boss."
Oh, this wasn't good at all. Not only had Rogers admitted that Ianto was a true dragon, but he'd brought Torchwood into it. What made it worse was the fact that they hadn't had him sign any sort of Secrecy Act yet, so he wasn't bound by the laws that governed the knowledge of Torchwood's existence. Still, from what Clint had been told, disseminating anything Torchwood was an act of treason within Great Britain…however, they weren't in Great Britain at the moment. He wondered just how the rules would apply in this case, and how quickly Ianto would have Rogers wear his wrist out signing his life away.
"I think it would be best if I snuck off and changed, then we could get away. I certainly don't want to have to give some sort of press conference. Her Majesty would certainly look down on that, and the last thing I want to do is make her more unhappy than she's bound to be over this."
"Hey!"
The shout had all three of them turned toward it. Clint had thought it had sounded like a kid, and he'd been right: the boy looked to be all of ten or twelve years old, in some sort of school uniform. He was running toward them, being chased by a woman who looked to be terrified at having to run after the kid, and who could blame her? There'd been a pretty major battle just fought, after all.
The boy stopped right in front of Ianto, his brown eyes staring in awe. "Are you a real dragon?" he asked breathlessly.
Clint could see the moment Ianto's big old dragon heart melted at the cuteness. "I am," he answered, voice a bit more of a rumble than usual. "And who might you be?"
"Mister Parker!" the woman yelled. She stalked right up to the boy. "I told you not to run off, it's too dangerous!" She was giving Ianto a mighty side-eye, as if she wasn't sure the dragon wasn't going to eat the little kid.
The boy gave her a rather impressive eye roll. He'd be a champion at it when he got older. "I'm fine, Ms Anderson. He's not gonna eat me." His head craned upward, so he could get a closer look. "You're not gonna eat me, are you Mr Dragon?"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Ianto assured both him and his guardian.
Ms Anderson didn't look convinced, but the boy nodded, accepting Ianto's word. "I'm Peter. Peter Parker. We were here on a school trip, and got stuck inside the UN." He cocked his head quizzically. "How can you fly? Your wings don't look big or strong enough to carry all your weight. Not that I'm saying you're fat, but you have to be heavy 'cause you're so big. The ratio of wingspread should be a lot longer for you to be able to even get off the ground…"
Ianto seemed to be charmed. Clint, surprised at the little boy's rather intelligent questions, glanced over at Patrick, who was grinning. "You know, from what I understand, Tosh asked some of the same questions, and she's a lot older than that kid," the Torchwood operative murmured. "Listen to Ianto's answer…"
"That's because it's magic," the dragon replied. "Do you believe in magic, Mr Parker?"
"No," he said assuredly, but then his face went confused. "Well, I didn't until I saw you. I wanna be a scientist when I grow up."
"And I think you'll be an excellent one. But always keep an open mind, that way you won't miss anything that might not fit into what you think of as science." Ianto settled down onto the concrete, so his rather large eyes could be closer to the remarkable Mr Parker. "I have a friend who's a great scientist, but she believes in magic as well. She doesn't think there's any reason not to try to understand both, as they both have a place in the world."
Young Mr Parker considered that. Clint could tell he was an awkward child, but hoped he'd grow out of that. "Can I climb up on your back?"
Ianto chuckled. Clint couldn't help it, and joined in with Patrick. "I don't see why not." His ancient eyes glanced toward Ms Anderson. "Although your teacher would have to agree. After all, she's been tasked to look after you."
"Can we, Ms Anderson?" came a chorus of requests from another dozen children, who'd actually managed to sneak up on all of them. Clint was a little upset that his situational awareness was crap at the moment, but all those little imploring faces would have melted solid steel.
"I promise they won't fall," Ianto assured her. "My friends here," he raised the shoulder closest to Patrick and Clint, "will help."
All of those young eyes looked right at them. Clint felt completely up to the task, hooking his bow over his quiver to keep it out of the way. "Who's first?" he asked.
That got him twelve "Me!"'s from all those kids. Only Peter Parker was quiet; he looked a little down, as if he felt like, now that the other children were there, he'd be left out. If he was as smart as he seemed, then Clint could understand it. Kids like him could be mercilessly teased by their peers.
Not that Clint had any experience with that sort of thing, not having been in school since the sixth grade. But he could remember being picked on by older kids, although for different reasons.
So, he did the only thing he could do.
Clint walked right up to Peter and swung the kid up onto his shoulders, careful not to let him get poked by anything pointy on his back. Peter gasped, then laughed, holding on tightly as the archer carried him back toward Ianto. "You asked first, so you get to go first."
"I never get picked first," the child whispered in wonder as Clint lifted him onto Ianto's back.
"This time, you did." Clint showed him how to sit comfortably. Ianto didn't move, but it wasn't an unnatural stillness, either. "What do you think?"
"I'm gonna fly one day," Peter promised. "It might not be on a dragon, but I'm gonna fly!"
Somehow, Clint didn't doubt him in the slightest.
Years from now, one of Clint's favourite pictures of Ianto would be the one that one of the major magazines printed, in an article of the Battle for the United Nations: of Ianto, curled up on the hard concrete of the UN Plaza, with children crawling all over him.
In the far future, when Clint was reborn and became that dragon's son, he'd remember that photo on the day when a horde of dragon children would do the same, as he and his mate and their own children and grandchildren stood and watched as their patriarch let himself become a living jungle gym to an all-new generation of dragons on a planet of their very own.
But that was the future.
For now, he stood back and watched as the kids clambered all over the dragon, laughing and playing and experiencing the wonder that learning about magic could bring, letting it ease the pain in his heart just a little.
"I hate to interrupt," Patrick did just that, "But Jack's been ringing me non-stop and I don't think he's going to take 'I'll have him call you back', as an answer anymore."
The children were tiring out, and Clint had been helping them down to a waiting Ms Anderson and a pair of chaperones, one of them Peter's Aunt May. She'd seemed pretty blasé about the idea that a dragon had landed in New York, but Clint knew native New Yorkers, and knew that there wasn't a lot that would faze them…especially after two alien invasions in less than a week.
"You really should talk to him," Clint smirked. "You know he's only going to get madder the longer you put it off."
"I'm not going to have an argument with my mate out in public," the dragon grumbled.
"Then go to Stark Tower."
Clint glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to see the rest of the Avengers standing around them. He'd known they were approaching; but then, his situational awareness had apparently decided to come back on its own. Or maybe it was just cute kids that he had a blind spot for.
"You can land on the platform where JARVIS takes care of the armour," Stark continued. His helmet was off, tucked under one arm, his dark hair damp with sweat. "Once you get there, you can change back without all these reporters looking on. Then you can call Jack and get the fight out of the way. Although, I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall for that."
"You so sure about that?" Clint wanted to know, laughing when Stark pulled a pout that would have made Jack proud.
"Well, maybe not."
"I didn't think so!"
"You have a mate?" Thor was curious. "Are you not the Last?"
"I am," Ianto confirmed, "but Jack is human…ish."
"Slick, Boss," Patrick teased. "You just let out that Jack is more than human, without giving all of his secrets away."
"Like you did on the way here?" Clint put in, smirking.
"Excuse me?" Ianto rumbled, narrowing his eyes in Patrick's direction. "Just what have you been saying, Patrick?"
"Calm down," Stark waved a hand at Ianto's head. "He was only commenting on Jack's 51st century time travelling wiles."
Patrick didn't even look sorry for his security faux pas.
"I really would like to meet this team of yours," Rogers said. He'd pulled his cowl down, and his hair was just as matted down as Stark's. Uniforms like that were obviously hell on the style.
"Perhaps," the dragon allowed, "although I will tell Jack that you were the one who called me the Torchwood Dragon. I'm still not certain what Her Majesty is going to have to say on the subject. She'll already be displeased that I've been so careless as to show up on camera." He gave a somewhat toothy smile, and if Clint hadn't known Ianto as well as he did, he'd have been a little freaked out by all that danger on display. "Although, I'm positive we'll all be working together again someday."
"Mind if I fly back with you?" Patrick asked. "I'm sure Alice will want to yell at me for a while, too."
"Not at all. However, you might want to leave the gun. I'm not quite sure Director Fury would want you absconding with it."
It was Patrick's turn to pout, but then he hated having to give up new toys that could cause rampant destruction. "I'll make sure Fury gets it back," Clint offered. He held out his hands, and Patrick reluctantly handed the weapon over. To be honest, he really didn't want to even touch it knowing that, with his last breath, Phil had used it on Loki. It hadn't done all that much good, in that circumstance.
"We'll talk later, Clint," Ianto promised, giving the archer a knowing look. "Let me know when you're ready."
"I will." Despite himself, Clint freed up a hand to rest it against the dragon's warm scales, recalling one of those very emerald scales resting in Phil's coffin. It was considered an honour to give a dragon scale away, and he knew that Phil would have been touched by the gesture.
Not that he knew Ianto had done it. After all, Phil was dead.
Damn, that would never stop hurting.
Patrick tugged Clint into a hug. "Come home," he whispered. He pulled away, leaving a hand on Clint's shoulder, his dark eyes sad. "You're family. Please…come home."
Clint knew then that he would end up in Cardiff…or London, in the end. Years ago, Clint had become part of the Torchwood family, and he just had to admit to himself that the only things that had kept him in SHIELD were Natasha and Phil. One of those was gone and, judging from Natasha's gentle nod, she was letting him know it was time to move on, that it was fine for him to leave.
Letting him go, Patrick used Ianto's bent leg to climb up onto that broad back. Clint stepped back to allow the dragon's wings room to unfurl and, with a powerful thrust of those heavily muscled legs, Ianto was flying off, and Clint watched as he vanished into the distance, beyond even what his eyes could make out.
The gathered kids all started cheering and waving.
"You're gonna go to Torchwood," Stark interrupted his reverie.
Clint glanced toward the genius. Stark's eyes were knowing, and he couldn't deny it. "Yeah, I think I am."
"You should," Natasha stepped up to him. "It would be good for you to get away from all the memories you have with SHIELD. Take some time to heal."
"You will be missed, my friend," Thor added, "however, you must do what is the best for you."
Banner shrugged. He'd changed back into his human form, and he looked exhausted. One of the cops had found him a raincoat that was embossed with the NYPD shield on the back. "Thor's right. I don't pretend to know what anyone's talking about, but if you want my opinion…go with what Thor said. And Natasha."
It was as if the Avengers where giving him their blessing. Clint had only fought with them twice now, and yet it was as if they somehow knew him.
The only one who didn't look happy was Rogers.
"I do wish you'd stay," he admitted, "but I also know what loss does to a person. You're an integral part of this team, and Agent Coulson wanted you on it. But I also know what the death of a loved one means. Sometimes you just have to get away from what reminds you of them. I suspect the Avengers does just that."
It was funny, but Clint hadn't realised it until Cap had said it, but Rogers was right. Phil had wanted him on the Initiative, and if his ex-lover had lived then Hawkeye would have gladly stayed. But now…he really needed to get away from SHIELD and New York and the Triskelion…and the Avengers. And, even though Patrick would always remind him of Phil, it was a different sort of reminder: it was acceptance and sharing the same pain that Clint himself was experiencing.
None of these – well, perhaps Stark, a little, and Natasha – understood what losing Phil meant…although Rogers seemed to be coming a bit close. But then, the supersoldier had lost everyone he'd ever known practically overnight. If anyone would get it, it would be Steve Rogers.
"Like Ianto said," Clint murmured, clearing his throat around the lump that had suddenly grown there, "I'm sure we'll be teaming up again at some point. This planet's only gonna get more and more popular with the aliens, from what Jack's said, so we're all gonna be needed. The Avengers, SHIELD, and Torchwood. It's really only a matter of time."
"I really want to meet this Jack person," Bruce commented. "He seems to know a lot."
That had Stark laughing. He clapped Banner on the shoulder, the raincoat making a rustling sound under his fingers. "You have no idea, Big Guy."
Natasha took the opportunity to step right up to Clint, resting a hand on his cheek. "You need this. To heal. And SHIELD is going to be a poisonous place for you now." She gave him a small, private, smile. "I'll come and visit. Cardiff is lovely this time of year."
"Sure," he laughed a little thickly, "if you like rain. And it might not even be Cardiff in the end…London has a long and wonderful history of alien invasions. That could be where I might do the most good."
This felt like the right thing to do. He'd have to turn in his resignation with Director Fury, and Clint knew that he wasn't going to like it, but at the same time the archer thought Fury would understand. After all, he'd been friends with Phil for decades, having recruited Phil into SHIELD's ranks and trained with him. Fury didn't trust a lot of people, and as he was fond of saying he could count the number on one hand… and wasn't afraid to lose any fingers. This was going to be equally hard on Nick Fury; he'd lost the man he'd called his One Good Eye.
As the Avengers made their way back out to help with the clean-up, Clint knew this was a new start. It would be just what he needed.
Clint was looking forward to it.