Notes: Here we are back again with what promises to be a chapter of… ridiculousness. Just … building an army. Pay no attention. But you know, Tahiti is a magical place.


Chapter 11: "Hawkeye v. Deadpool"


September 10

Tahiti Wing


Cassie was the default go-to whenever someone waking up in the Tahiti program didn't have family, so of course when Charles asked her if she would welcome Wade Wilson into the world, she had agreed. He'd assured her that even though the boy had seemed totally insane during the Games, the hope was that the Tahiti process had been able to reverse much of the damage that had made him that way.

Cassie wasn't supposed to know that it was half the reason they'd brought Wade back - to see if they could reverse the damage done so that they could bring back others who had 'severe head injuries'. A phrase which was the Cassie kept hearing bandied about, as if it were as easy to repair as a sprained ankle.

There were some serious upsides to studying in the room by Hank Pym's lab.

But the Tahiti docs weren't going to take any chances, either, so Wade was tied down and heavily sedated when they moved him. Actually, he was taking a while to wake up, and Cassie had ducked out of the room for just a few minutes — to stretch her legs and use the bathroom — when of course Wade woke up.

Alone. In a white room.

"Am I alone? Really? Hellooooooooo," Wade sang out, straining against the restraints that held him down. "Ollie ollie oxen free! Where is everybody!" The more Wade shouted, the more harsh his cries became as clearly he was working up to a panic — or something like it.

Cassie's eyes widened when she returned, seeing the struggling young man on the other side of the room. She hurriedly slipped inside, trying her best to give him a calming and reassuring smile. "Um, please don't shout. I step out for like five seconds…"

"Is that you, Margaret?" Wade asked, sounding almost childlike.

"Cassie Lang," she corrected him, waving with the tips of her fingers. She wasn't entirely sure who Margaret was, and she wasn't exactly equipped to deal with insanity if he was seeing people who weren't there. She hoped he wasn't seeing things.

He looked her way for a second before he lifted one hand up as far as he could, half in greeting and half to show the restraints that were in place. "Cassie Lang, can you maybe, I dunno… just … just loosen up these restraints? I kinda have a thing about being immobilized."

"I'm not supposed to until we're sure you're okay," she admitted. "But don't panic — I know it's really weird waking up, but you'll be totally fine if you relax and focus on flexing your muscles."

"Well that's all fine and good, Cassie Lang, when you're not the one strapped to the bed."

"Sorry," she said with a sheepish little smile. "But you're also the first Career we've brought back, and you kinda… well." She paused, unsure if she should tell him they weren't sure how sane he was. How was she even supposed to approach a conversation like that, exactly? "We want to make sure you don't kill anybody."

"Oh. Well. I didn't kill anyone before …" He made some noises as if he was considering things. "But I did try to. So. Alright... maybe I see your point." Wade paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling.

She waited patiently. So far, he hadn't done anything more insane than call her Margaret, and since she didn't know who his family and friends were, that actually wasn't the strangest thing she'd been called.

"Cassie Lang?" he said at last. "Can I call you just Cassie or Miss Lang or Cas or Cas-a-rama or …"

"Cassie is fine," she said with a little grin.

"Cassie. Great. Um…" He let out a long breath and seemed to be painstakingly picking his words. "If it's not too much trouble, can I have my mask please? I… I kinda need it."

"Why?" she asked, with true sincerity. She knew that he'd worn a mask during the Games, but looking at him now, she assumed it must have been a gimmick to get attention. Either that or he had the worst self-esteem she'd ever seen. He wasn't the least bit ugly.

"To keep from scaring what I am assuming are pretty girls like you," he replied, his tone quiet and entirely serious. "Among other things."

She wrinkled her nose a bit at him. "You're strapped down and not yelling anymore. You're not that scary."

"Either you're an adorable liar or you have a very strong stomach."

She stared at him for a second until she just had to shake her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't know why you kept all covered up the whole Games. You're like… a younger version of my dad, only with lighter hair."

"You … are unique in your horrible life experiences then," he said, regarding her carefully, as if he wasn't sure what to do with her, either. "And that's just not nice to say."

"Look, I don't know who in your life gave you your horrible self-esteem—"

"It was a gas line," he said. "Burned almost 80% of my body. It's not a self-esteem thing."

"Oh!" Cassie put a hand to her mouth as she finally understood. "Oh, well — you can't tell anymore," she assured him quickly. "They probably fixed that when they brought you back from the dead."

Any trace of a smile disappeared from his face, and Cassie took a step back as she saw, for just a moment, why he had been chosen by the Academy in One to represent them in the Games. "What? Is that … is that some kind of joke?" he asked harshly. "Because I promise you that's it's not funny."

"No, really," she insisted. "I even like the freckles."

The silence that passed between them was long and sharp, and he seemed to be working to control his breathing before, finally, he said, "Mirror. Please, Cassie Lang."

She hesitated, still further back from him than she had been before. She wanted to help him; he seemed so upset. But she wanted sure how much she could trust him…. But there was a panic button by the door that she could use, so she took in a breath. Tahiti was about taking risks — wasn't that what Coulson was always saying? "Okay, I'm gonna let you sit up," she told him, gingerly stepping forward and, when he didn't seem about to take off her head, stepping even closer. "Just don't — don't do anything to make me regret that, okay?"

"As long as you're not lying to me, we'll be just fine," he said without the slightest trace of humor in his voice.

She tipped her head at him and nodded as she moved to undo the restraints around his wrists. "There's a mirror over on this wall," she said, backing away toward the door just in case she needed to use the panic button once she had his hands free.

He quickly removed the ones that held him down at the ankles and gave her a look of unease before he stood up and made his way over to take a look in the mirror … and just … stared. "What the hell happened to me?" he asked at nearly a whisper, wide-eyed.

"Well, you died," she explained as gently as she could, one hand on the door handle just in case. "And then SHIELD brought you back." She smiled kindly at him. "Welcome back!"

He turned her way slowly with that same wide-eyed expression before he broke into a grin and took a quick couple of steps her way. She almost winced away, but he was beaming, and the next thing she knew, he'd scooped her up in a hug and spun her around in a circle. "I don't know what they did, but I love it," he said before he theatrically gave her a big, smoochy, wet kiss on the cheek and finally set her down.

Cassie couldn't help but giggle; his smile was infectious, and she was relieved to see that he wasn't angry or upset or anything else that he could have decided to be. "Well, give me another couple years of studying, and I'll see if I can explain it to you," she offered.

"I don't even care," he said with a winning grin. "As long as it stays this way, I'm happy."

"Just don't run into any fires, and yeah, it's pretty darn permanent," she assured him. "I mean, I've been up and around for two years, and so far nothing has changed except, you know. Getting older. So you're not immortal or anything." When he just kept grinning wider and wider, she decided it was probably safe… "Do you want to see the rest of the place?" she offered.


In the next room over, Clint Barton was tied down the same way Wade had been, though he wasn't panicking loudly and shouting like his neighbor was. The rooms were well-insulated enough that he had no idea what Wade was up to just a few feet away. Clint was just… quiet. Unmoving. Watching.

Charles knew that the young man had been awake for some time, and he had been observing Clint's reactions as he came back to consciousness. "Are you feeling alright, Mr. Barton?" he asked gently.

"Alive," he said quietly, turning his gaze Charles' way at last as he gave the victor a very clear once-over, trying to determine what his angle was, why this guy was there. Why he was there.

"I'm supposed to assess you," Charles admitted. He didn't see any sense in lying to Clint, and with the young man as quiet as he was, he probably needed the push. "Weigh out how at risk you are. So, perhaps you could elaborate for me."

"That's about all I got for you, though," Clint said with a small frown. "Alive and confused, since last I saw, me and Katie…. Wait. Oh man — is Katie okay?" he asked abruptly, straining for the first time against the restraints as he tried to see beyond the bed and Charles.

"Kate is here too," Charles replied in a careful, calm, reassuring tone. "She's whole and healthy, and I'm sure she'd be very excited to see you, too."

Clint turned to watch Charles, searching for any sign of deceit, but when he saw none, he just tipped his head back with a sigh. "So she got invited to the afterlife party."

"She did," Charles said with a ghost of a smile. "And in the Games, she made it to the top three."

He smiled a bit at that. "Atta girl," he said, though he fell silent for a long time after that. Charles thought he might need to prompt the young man again before he finally spoke up, this time to ask, "Just me and her, or….?"

"No, there are several," Charles replied. It was clear to see that the young man in front of him cared deeply about others but not quite himself, though it was at least an encouraging sign that he still did care. He took a deep breath and watched Clint's reactions, meeting his steady gaze. "The boy from Nine, the girl from Six. The boys from Three and Five, the Five girl, the Eleven girl … and your district partner — so far."

"Natasha's here?" Clint picked his head up.

"She's here," Charles said. He wasn't surprised to see that hers was the name that had him most interested, but he was surprised by how instantly he seemed to perk up out of his silent sullenness. But he didn't want to give the boy false hope, either, so he quickly added, "But we have a lot of work to do to free her mind from the Red Room."

"She's..." Clint's eyes were wide, and he seemed to be searching for what to say. "She's a good kid. Deep down. Don't…." It was the most open Charles had seen him, his lips slightly parted, his whole expression one of almost desperation as he tried to explain just what he was afraid of. Charles was sure he didn't even know himself.

"I'm trying to talk her through it. No force involved," Charles assured him. "On my word."

Clint looked relieved to hear it, leaning back into the hospital bed as he let out all his breath. "She's alive," he said, mostly to himself.

"And fighting me every step of the way," Charles said with a little smile. "You should have seen the look on her face when I told her she wasn't that great of an actress."

"You didn't." Clint picked his head up and grinned. "And you're still breathing?"

"I'm still breathing," Charles replied, smiling wider.

"That's amazing." Clint chuckled a little to himself. "When can I see her? And Katie - and the others?"

"Honestly, if I can clear you quickly, we can get you to Kate at least today, and with a bit of luck and some cooperation on her part — Natasha will follow quickly."

"Let me help," Clint offered almost immediately. "I know her."

"I appreciate that," Charles said. "I'm afraid she refuses to trust anyone right now — though I'm not surprised."

"I can get through to her," Clint said, his tone half-pleading. "She trusts me, I'm pretty sure."

"Then let's get you up and about and on a tour. Then, when she returns, you can go to see your fellow Hawk, and I'll bring you in next session," Charles said as he rolled forward to undo the restraints on Clint's wrists. "Of course, everyone does weekly sessions with me at the minimum."

"And you're, what, the camp counselor?" Clint asked with a little smirk.

"Something like that," Charles replied.

"I'm warning you now that I don't know how to braid hair or make bracelets."

"That's fine; I've never had much need for those skills," Charles countered with a smirk and a quick gesture toward his bald head.

Clint grinned even more widely at that, and nodded as he sat up and stretched out his arms before freeing up his legs. "So," he said, his tone totally conversational but his gaze never leaving Charles' face. "I'm assuming this isn't Camp Feelgood if you're bringing people back from the dead."

"No," he said. "It's more like Camp Revolution."

Clint looked shocked and peered closer at Charles for a moment, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. He reached up to his ear, and Charles saw the moment realization passed over his expression when there was no aid there.

"I… I must have heard you wrong," Clint said, suddenly looking self-conscious.

Charles watched the young man with a small smile. "No," he said gently. "There is nothing wrong with your hearing, Mr. Barton."

At that, Clint absently traced the outline of his ear, as if he was still expecting to find something there. "That's not…"

Charles nodded, waiting for Clint to process it properly. When Clint finally looked up at him, eyes wide and searching for answers, Charles leaned forward with an understanding smile. "The same medical technology that was used to bring you back — we were also able to use to restore your ear, and reverse the damage that was done when you were a child."

Clint held his hand up to his right ear, a frown settled over his features. He didn't quite like the idea of someone fixing him up without him knowing about it, or giving his okay. Not that he wasn't grateful, he just… he'd been living with it for so long, since before his parents died. The old man was the one who deafened him in the first place.

"I know it's a lot to process," Charles said kindly, watching the stunned young man closely.

"Yeah…" Clint finally lowered his hand and swallowed hard. He closed his eyes, and Charles leaned forward, worried, until Clint glanced his way again with an attempt at a casual grin. "Alright, tell me again what this camp is for. Just to be sure I heard you right."

Charles couldn't help but smile as he nodded. "Mr. Barton," he said clearly, "we're preparing for a revolution."

Clint looked delighted, both at the news and the fact that he realized he had, in fact, heard correctly — though he almost couldn't help a whispered-out, "Really?"

"It's long overdue."

"Yeah, no kidding," Clint said as if this was obvious. He grinned to himself the more he thought about it before he asked, "When do we start tearing a path through the Capitol?"

"There's training to be done first, and once the path looks clear, Director Fury will hand everyone their assignments."

But at the mention of 'assignments', Clint's enthusiasm seemed to evaporate. "That's one, ah, organized revolution you're running," he said with a frown. "Sounds more like a coup from the inside for another Capitolite to win power."

"That's a fair way to put it," Charles admitted, "although the preliminary plans I saw spoke more to handing the power to the people of the districts and removing the system in place entirely."

"And who better to do that than the guy who runs the system?" Clint said, clearly not convinced in the least.

"He is uniquely qualified," Charles replied. "There's a reason all the previous Gamemakers were executed. They know too much of the systems that keep Thanos in power.."

"That's real comforting, you know that?" Clint said, frowning at Charles. "You gonna do that too once you're done with us — execute us for knowing too much?" He didn't even sound accusatory; it sounded like a rhetorical question.

Charles frowned at him and shook his head, his body language as open as honest as he could make it so that Clint was sure he wasn't lying. "No, the plan is to free you as much as we free the rest of the citizens," he said before he paused and added, "Using the Games themselves as cover for our enterprise."

Clint just gestured at himself and the little white room. "Little late for that, camp counselor man."

"This year, yes," Charles agreed. "But in a few months, the victory tour will start, drawing their attention away again."

"At which point you'll pull your little undead weapons out of the toolbox," Clint finished for him.

Charles raised an eyebrow at him for that one. "I assure you, you are more than—"

But Clint waved his hand easily to cut him off. "It's okay, doc. Being a weapon's pretty much my whole life story. I'm used to it."

"You aren't required to do anything you don't choose to do," Charles told him honestly.

"Don't worry about it," Clint said with a shrug. "There's no way I don't want to be part of taking down the Capitol anyway. Just… give me a heads up if I 'know too much,' huh?" he said, this time with a joking grin that Charles could tell he didn't quite mean.

"I won't ask you to put yourself in any more danger than you're comfortable with," Charles said. "If you can just help me to get Natasha out of the Red Room, I'll consider it a win."

Clint just nodded at that. "Yeah, I guess baby steps. Nat first, then we'll overthrow Thanos. Then, if we have time, pizza."

"That's quite the priority list," Charles couldn't help but laugh as he watched the young man throw his legs over the side of the bed and stand experimentally.

"What, should I move the pizza up?" Clint asked with a crooked smile. "Had some in the Capitol, and that is some beautiful stuff, doc."

Charles had to shake his head and chuckle at Clint's antics. If he wanted to use humor to cope, that was fine — he just hoped that Clint would be able to get serious when the time came.

As for Clint, he was already preparing mentally for whoever it was that wanted to use him this time — his dad, Buck, the Games, it was all the same. And if he just played dumb, they didn't look too hard at him.

He wasn't sure what Charles' game was just yet, but he'd figure it out. Until then, play along — and help Nat and Katie.

"So ... what do we do now?" he asked.

Charles had his hands clasped underneath his chin as he studied Clint, but when Clint turned to face him, he smiled kindly. "Well," he said, still with that same smile, "there is another boy who just returned from the other side next door. If things are going well, perhaps we can join them in their tour."

"Yeah? Who's that?" Clint asked, opening the door — but when Clint turned the corner, away from his room in the medical wing, he was nearly bowled over by a familiar-sounding young man in a hospital gown who all but tackled him with a bear hug.

"Oh! Oh, the band is back together!" the gowned boy all but shouted in Clint's ear.

Clint let out an 'oof' of air as Wade hit him, and it took him a second to realize who he was without the mask, though the overly enthusiastic welcome was a pretty clear indicator. "What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to put some distance between himself and his former Career ally by the simple device of putting his hands on Wade's shoulders and pushing.

"I don't know!" Wade said in an overly excited tone as he just clutched harder to Clint and snuggled into him closer. "It's just … well I guess they decided it was no fun without me?"

"Notice they brought you back without the Halloween mask on your face," Clint said, still trying to get distance.

"Oh, it's alright, sweetie, you'll get used to being the second most handsome fella around here."

"Still talking to yourself, I see," Clint shot back, giving up on getting distance and just starting to shake his head and chuckle.

Wade paused and finally loosened his grip on Clint, suddenly still as what Clint had said sank in. "Oh my God," he said in almost a whisper. "I'm not." He looked at Clint with widening eyes. "I'm not. It's … there's no one else in there."

"I was kidding," Clint said guardedly, not sure what was happening.

"I know," Wade said, patting Clint's shoulder. "I know you were … but .. there aren't … no… there's no one arguing with me."

"That's actually really good," Cassie said from the doorway Wade had emerged from, looking genuinely pleased. "I heard Claire saying they were hoping to reverse physical brain damage with you, so ... that's good, right? It worked, whatever they did."

"It did," Wade said, still sounding a bit shocked as the smile began to grow. He turned to Clint with an almost maniacal grin. "We're like twinsies now. We woke up together. It's fate."

"We're not," Clint insisted, shaking his head. He didn't want to know what Wade had in mind to celebrate being 'twinsies.'

"We are. We so are," Wade said, the grin growing wider. "I'm going to send out waking up announcements. What are you weighing in at these days, little brother?"

"If you go around telling people we woke up together, I swear I'll tell 'em you were the little spoon just to get ahead of the rumors."

"That's fine, stud muffin, I'm flexible. I'm not ashamed of my fine backside," Wade said as he let Clint pass him by just to jump on his back. "How about a piggy back ride? I'll go first. We can take turns!"

"I can't decide which is worse here," Clint said toward a giggling Cassie. "The brother thing or the stud muffin thing."

"Don't jump on him. You'll break him," Cassie called out to Wade.

"But he likes it!" Wade said before he leaned forward and kissed Clint on the cheek.

"Get off," Clint grumbled as he tried to reach around to grab a handful of hospital gown and pull him over his shoulder.

"He's going for my ass!" Wade shouted. "You're gonna get a handful if you keep that up."

"To kick it," Clint clarified, though he was a little frustrated when he was tired trying to stay upright and grab Wade. "What, did you gain five hundred pounds?"

"Oh, you're a little wobbly, little brother — how about we switch out? My turn to play pack mule."

"Your bodies are still recovering. You have to get used to your muscles again," Cassie explained sympathetically to a frustrated-looking Clint.

"I gotcha. Right," Wade said nodding. "Oooh, work-out buddies!"

"Of the three, that's the best option I've gotten so far," Clint said, knowing a good out when he saw one. "Fine. Where's the gym?"

"He's just in a rush to slip into spandex," Wade stage whispered to Cassie. "Just a question of if it'll be purple or black."

"Um, most of our mission wear is black," Cassie replied earnestly, not quite getting the joke.

"It's a shame," Wade said. "He's a vision in purple with wings on his face."

"My stylist didn't listen to me about anything past 'what's your favorite color?'" Clint explained Cassie's way with a long-suffering sigh.

"And a bold and manly choice that was," Wade said, nodding.

"That's okay," Cassie said as she tried to be diplomatic between the two boys. "At least yours listened. I was in red and black because, well, coal."

"Oooh," Wade said, abandoning Clint in favor of Cassie and draping an arm over her shoulders. "I was red and black too. Did wonders for my caboose."

"It made me look like a tomato," Cassie told him with a sheepish giggle.

"With your figure?" Wade said in a scandalized tone. "Not a chance."

"Well, I was, like, twelve at the time. My stylist thought the baby fat on my cheeks was cute," she said. "My partner's stylist told him to shut up. Wish I'd've gotten him instead; he was new and listened."

"Oh, that sounds awful. My stylist thought she was the queen of the dead. Or at least … she dressed that way," Wade said with a frown. "Which is weird, because the real queen of the dead would not have been caught … anywhere in what that girl wore. Who thought she was a good choice?"

"I dunno. I don't get to make the decisions, but she sounds like a real pain," Cassie said, making a face. "Mine thought she was some kind of goddess. But she was really just in it to throw together some black and whatever colors she thought looked like embers and then go fawn over Odin." She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling before she turned her attention back to Wade. "The blush made me look like a tomato, I mean it."

"Eww, that's like … he's ancient," Wade said. He scrunched his nose at the mental image of Cassie's stylist trailing after Odin before he decided he never wanted to imagine that again and changed the subject rapidly. "So. Are we the only ones here? I mean. I know who made the final three … but then I got bored and wandered off. I could see where it was gonna go."

"Oh, no!" Cassie said with a grin as she perked up under his arm. "We've already got a few people from this year awake, and there's five of us from previous years. Um, Tony Stark and Sinthea Schmidt … Steve Rogers and Ororo Munroe … Kurt Wagner and Kate Bishop."

"Oh, yeah, that was tragic … those two," Wade said, shaking his head. "So Logan won then?"

Cassie nodded. "How'd you know? You died early on."

"I said I saw all the way to the final three and got bored, weren't you listening?" Wade said, shaking his head. "Gotta pay attention, Cassie Lang."

"Don't worry about it, Cassie," Clint told her with a sympathetic look when she just blinked at Wade in wide-eyed confusion. "Don't try to follow his train of thought, or you'll get run over."

Cassie giggled. "Or be derailed?"

Ignoring the comments, Wade looked around the halls. "So, I'm guessing the dating pool is a little … thin down here," he said. "I just got out of a one-way relationship myself… so … you know. I'm freed up."

"I call not it," Clint grumbled out Wade's way.

"You say that now, big spoon," Wade countered before he blew Clint a kiss.

"There's a pretty strict no fraternization rule. Which Kate and Kurt get in trouble for breaking all the time," Cassie explained in a stage whisper before Clint could say anything.

"What are they gonna do, kill us? Again?" Wade said.

"No, but they're not allowed to go on missions together right now." Cassie stood up on her toes so she could be closer to Wade's ear to whisper, "They're on probation."

He made a scandalized sound. "Nooooo," he said, shaking his head slowly. "No one can stand in the way of Kart — they won't listen anyhow. They'll be sneaking off … into the training room after hours … fake lakes ..." As he faded off, he started to mumble more and more until he realized the other two were looking at him, and then he stopped, turned their way innocently, and grinned.

"But it's just the missions, right? No separation otherwise?" Clint asked, looking a little more intrigued by the conversation now.

"He's worried about being able to make kissy faces with the angry redhead from Two if she wakes up too," Wade whispered loudly.

Cassie looked a little surprised as she turned toward Clint, who was doing his best impression of someone who didn't know what Wade was talking about. "Well, if she's on the list, she's not here," she said. "I haven't heard anything about her, sorry."

"Yet," Wade said. "Yet. The Clintasha monster would not stand to let this ship die. No no no, it'll have to happen. It's fate."

"Are you just going to mash up everyone's names the whole time you're here?" Cassie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just when the ship is sound," Wade replied, then drew himself up importantly. "I am the ship christener."

"You sure he's sane?" Clint asked, though he was smirking a bit to himself. "I don't think he's made sense for the past five minutes."

Wade waggled his finger at Clint. "You … you better watch it mister."

"Or what — you'll refuse to give me piggyback rides?"

"I'll kiss you publicly," Wade said. "Full on the lips. French. They'll talk about it for years."

Clint just shook his head, though he did take a step back to put some distance between himself and Wade. "Right. C'mon, Cassie, let's just… finish the tour."

"Oh … now I want to," Wade said.

"What would your names be?" Cassie asked almost before she could stop herself, and Clint looked like he had been betrayed.

"Hawkpool," Wade said without missing a beat.

"Someone just please show me to wherever we're supposed to dump this guy," Clint half moaned.

"I hope we're roomies," Wade said with a grin. "I call top bunk!"

"Nobody's had to share rooms yet," Cassie promised a suddenly very worried-looking Clint. "There's still plenty of empties. Though… there's a lot this year. So I can't make any promises about next year. If there is a next year to draw from. They keep saying we'll be out of here 'soon' but…" She shrugged up to her ears as she trailed off. "Anyway, this is the training room. Which is right next to the med bay. Because, well, yeah."

Wade followed her, pretending to take snapshots of such remarkable landmarks as the various offices and Sin, in the training room, who he described as the 'Angrier Redhead' as they passed through. He even made Cassie and Clint pose in front of the women's locker room, though Clint looked completely unamused. More so when he made him pose in front of the medical bay because, "Look mom, no bandages!"

"If personal cameras weren't contraband, I'd know what to get you for Christmas," Cassie said with a smirk as she led them to the residential areas.

"It's okay, sweet, sweet Cassie Lang, we're making memories. And no one can take that away from us."

She just grinned back at him before she pointed their attention to the right. "That way's the boys' rooms, and to the left is the girls'. Cafeteria's there—" She pointed to the double doors. "—and Charles and Dr. Essex have offices down the hall, plus Coulson's briefing room." She held out her hands with the palms turned up as she shrugged. "And that's it, really. Doors lock at night, so no midnight snacks or anything."

"That's a shame," Wade said. "I'd like a midnight anything every now and again."

"I've never been so glad to be locked in," Clint said dryly. "Speaking as the big spoon."

"It'll be so cold without you," Wade said with an overly devastated expression on his face.

Cassie just shook her head at both of them, trying to stifle a little giggle, when one of the doors down the hall opened, and Kate strolled out of it, still wearing the full black missionwear from the second-ever mission Coulson had asked her to run, a much simpler one than the one to Four.

It took her a second to process who she was seeing as she saw the two new boys with Cassie, but when she did, there was zero hesitation as she flat tackled Clint to the ground in a hug with a shouted, "CLINT!"

"Um, NO fraternization, young lady," Wade said as he tapped her on the shoulder, but she didn't make a move to let Clint up.

"Puh-lease," she said, waving him off without looking at him. "This is Clint." She hugged her old Games partner around the shoulders and neck as Clint looked surprised and then just settled into a tentative hug that kept tightening the longer she held onto him.

"I know," Wade said. "You two were great together … even better than us!"

At that, Kate finally turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised. "Who're you?" she asked.

"Katie, meet Wade," Clint said, gesturing between the two of them. "He was the lunatic in the mask before this place did their voodoo thing."

"He's the big spoon," Wade said. "But only because I'm the pretty one now."

Kate made a face at Wade before she turned toward Clint and decided to just ignore Wade for the time being. "You're alive," she breathed out and hugged him again, and Clint nodded.

"So're you," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but I didn't get torn apart by monkeys," Kate pointed out, still completely unwilling to even think about letting him go just yet. "That was horrible."

"No proof of it," Clint replied. He paused for a moment and looked her over before he asked, tentatively, "What happened to you?"

"His district partner got me with a sai before I shot her." Kate waved her hand at Wade without looking his way. "And I battled Five half-dressed and bandaged. It was good television, apparently," Kate said as she pulled a horrible, horrible face.

"Bonus points for killing the murder princess, by the way," Wade said. "She was no fun at all."

"Yeah, I heard," Kate said with a little sigh, though she looked a bit uncomfortable at the reminder.

The silence only lasted for a beat, though.

"Hey Cassie Lang? Do you have anything else you can show me while the two hawks squawk?" Wade said, offering Cassie his arm.

"Well, I can show you how to sneak into the swimming pool after it's closed," she said in a little whisper that both Hawkeyes could hear.

"I'll need my water wings," he said softly. "But if you want to show me how …"

"You don't know how to swim?" She looked a bit surprised. "I thought Careers got training!"

"No, I do … I just want you to show me." Wade grinned at her. "And it's an excuse to have you 'teach' me. I'll try not to drown on the first time out."

Cassie just shook her head at him as she took his offered arm. "Well, if you know how to swim, there's diving classes too," she offered.

"She's not getting it," Wade 'whispered' over his shoulder to Clint. "Maybe I should drown a little bit."

Clint just chuckled. "She's, like, eight. I think you're going over her head."

"Fourteen," Cassie said with a glare Clint's way.

"Well, that's just three years younger than me, sweet Cassie Lang," Wade said. "And probably more matured, too."

"Everyone's more mature than you," Clint said as Kate finally let him up off the floor.

"How come you call her that, anyway?" Kate asked Wade, genuinely curious.

"Cassie Lang, Goddess of the underground Zombies?"

"That's my name now, and you can't take it back," Cassie informed him.

"I'm just saying, do you have to use her full name?" Kate asked. "Isn't it a little formal?"

"I think what she's saying is — if you call her Katherine, she'll deck you," Clint told Wade with a little smirk.

"Yes, that," Kate agreed, grinning up at Clint before she hugged him one more time, for good measure, just to prove to herself he was alive and well.

"Don't worry, Better Hawkeye," Wade said, leaning in with a conspiratorial sort of look. "I know just what to call you."

"Careful there. If my… not-a-boyfriend thinks you're trying to charm me, he'll get mad," Kate warned him.

"Me? Stand in the way of Kart?" Wade looked completely affronted, his hand over his heart.

"I… am not sure I want to know what he's talking about," Kate said, turning to Clint, who just shrugged easily.

"I would not think to cross my brother the munitions officer like that," Wade continued with a theatrical gasp.

"I think that means he's not hitting on you," Clint offered when Kate just stared at Wade. "In case you wanted subtitles or something."

"Well… good." Kate just shook her head, still not sure what to make of Wade.

"This is going to be amazing," Wade promised as he tried to put an arm around both hawks. "I wonder if they have a 'Marcia' around here we could play with…"

"Or," Cassie broke in, "we could go to the cafeteria and get something to eat."

"Yes, that," Kate said, pointing at her friend with her other finger on her nose. "I just got back from scouting with Maverick, sniper training, you know, so — food. Food would be appreciated."

"Lead the way, princess purple," Wade said as he pulled Cassie over to the group of three. "It's like we're in the Wizard of Oz. Clint gets to be the scarecrow, don'tcha?"

"What's that make you?" Clint said without confirming or denying anything.

"The Cowardly Lion of course," Wade replied. "He's the most snuggly."

"Typical," Clint said, shaking his head as the group of them strolled through the cafeteria doors. Most of the others were still in training — it was still early enough to be considered afternoon - but to Cassie and Kate's surprise, Tony was actually out of his workshop. Showered and in new clothes and grinning their way when he saw that there were girls to smile at.

"Oh, now isn't he a sight for sore eyes," Wade said, looking a bit surprised.

"I thought he was a myth," Cassie teased, loud enough or Tony to hear. "Considering no one's seen him in ages."

"Why is that, sweet Cassielang?" Wade asked. "Has he been out stealing hearts and causing record breaking profits everywhere he goes?"

"No, he's been locked in his workshop like a bridge troll or something," Cassie said, which had Kate giggling.

"You just don't understand his genius mind," Wade said. "He gets an idea up in that big beautiful noggin of his and if he doesn't get it out, it'll drive him nuts."

"Nice to see someone gets it — sort of," Tony said, his head to the side as he watched Wade, clearly trying to place him before he gave up and shook his head. "Welcome back to the land of the living, by the way. Some of us had to work to get you there."

"And those of us lucky enough to have that big brain on their side thank you, sir," Wade replied definitely more official sounding than they'd heard him yet.

"Do you two know each other, then?" Cassie asked, watching the back and forth with a barely restrained smile.

"No," Wade said, shaking his head simply. "Not at all."

"Then how do you know…?"

"Forget it, Cassie," Clint told her seriously. "Just accept that he researches these things and try not to think about the rest of it too hard, or you'll get a headache."

"So, what's been going on around this place in preparation for your favorite tribute's triumphant return?" Wade asked. "Oh. And Clint. He did come back too."

"Oh, the usual," Cassie said as she dropped into the seat across from Tony and the rest of the group joined the table. "Black ops and intrigue and lots of training."

"That sounds like fun," Wade said with a bright, interested expression. "What's your team called?"

"We… just sort of go where Coulson sends us. We don't... " Cassie frowned.

"Oh," he said mildly. "Wrong team then." He paused and tipped his head a bit. "Must not be time yet. It's hard to know what happens when sometimes. Oh well."

"Bishop over here's got a team name," Tony offered without even looking up from the coffee he was intent on draining.

"Oh?" Wade asked, turning Kate's way. "What … is your team name? Should we say it at the same time?" He started to form a word, that started with a W, but quickly scrunched up his face and tried to echo her as she said her team name.

"Team Awesome," Kate said with a little smirk. "Which you aren't on, you goon."

"Yeah, that's … not the one I was thinking of," Wade admitted. "But seeing as you do have an opening in your team … I would like to respectfully submit my application to join." He straightened up and put on his most professional expression. "I specialize in double wield Katanas in the most non-traditional ways possible. Well. Not the most, but very very close to it. I can think of … t-wo more non-traditional ways."

"It's just me and Kurt," Kate said, shaking her head. "We're not really shopping for a third wheel."

"Oh, I thought he was on a different team," Wade said, shaking his head. "Man. I really am off kilter here. Getting waaay ahead of myself."

"That would suggest those two are ever not going to be on the same team," Tony pointed out, one eyebrow quirked. "Which if you know as much as you act like you do — you'd know how wrong that is."

"Oh, you'll see," Wade said with a growing smile. "She'll have reasons to not join that one."

Kate looked like she was going to argue the point, but Clint kicked her under the table. "Just nod and go with it, Katie. Don't argue with crazy. The doc in the wheelchair can have a crack at him later."

"Oh, we'll get along swimmingly once he comes clean on what the big master plan is," Wade said.

"Yeah, I didn't get much in the way of specifics either," Clint admitted. "Just a lot of Camp Revolution talk."

"We'll compare notes later," Kate promised him. "After I out-shoot you in the range," she added, this time with a little teasing sparkle in her eyes.

"What range?"

Kate grinned even wider. "Cassie, you didn't….?"

"Carol and Rhodey were there, so I skipped it on the tour," Cassie said, which pretty much explained everything.

"Oh. It is so on, sister," Wade promised. "And I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

"I was talking to Clint, but you are so on," Kate said, leveling her finger at him with a crooked grin.

"Yes!" Wade nodded far too many times before breaking into a grin of his own. "Hawkeye versus Deadpool — it will be epic!"