Sorry this one is so short, folks. I didn't have a good way to break up the next chunk which is fairly large.

Natasha had just finished her breakfast when the phone rang. It wasn't the encrypted one Stark had given her or the one she'd held onto after SHIELD was gone. It definitely wasn't her personal phone - the Winter Soldier had blown that phone to pieces and she'd replaced it with a new number. This was her emergency burner.

Only a handful of people in the world had that number, and all but two of them lived in Stark's tower, less than seven floors from where she was.

Her hands didn't shake as she picked up the phone. That surprised her a little; she'd thought she'd be more anxious about the possibility of a call from Clint. In her heart, she already knew who it would be.

She didn't know the number but that wasn't surprising given the status of SHIELD. She opened the line and said with a Bronx accent, "Vasily's Pizza, ready in fifteen minutes or it's free."

"Natasha." The ragged tone to his voice hollowed out her stomach and the super-spy sat down on her chair.

"Phil." Natasha had pondered how she'd react to this call; in her mind, she'd always been cold, distant, and full of righteous anger. Now that he was on the line, now that his voice was in her ear, she felt only relief. She couldn't hide it from him.

"I need to see you. Can I come in?" He sounded steadier and may have even been smiling.

"You can always come in from the cold, Phil." Natasha paused. "I still have my apartment in Queens." That was not true; the apartment was in Greenwich. Phil would know that but eavesdroppers shouldn't.

"I'll be there in eight hours. I will arrive in town with some friends but they'll be staying with my mother." That was Phil's favorite code for getting a cheap motel.

"Call me when you're here." Natasha felt giddy as the truth started to settle into her gut - Phil was coming to see her.

"I will." There was silence and she thought he'd hung up but he said, "I've missed you, Tasha."

A surge of warmth filled her from her toes to the top of her head. "Your aim always needed work." The old joke between them felt wonderful. It soured only a little when she remembered that Clint had been part of it, too. "See you soon."

His voice turned reluctant. "Bye."

The line went dead. Now all she had to do was wait patiently.

She was terrible at that so she went down to the range to put a few hundred rounds through her guns. That always made her feel better, more centered.

Clint watched the two men across the room while sharpshooting inside the shooting range. The fact that he never glanced at his target but still struck the center every time went largely unnoticed. Such a feat was far from unusual with the archer.

His attention was on the sparring forms, wrestling and twisting together as they practiced close combat. Grant rarely stopped practicing; the man worked himself like a machine. Since they were stopping over at the Prague HYDRA base, they were taking advantage of the gym. Clint wasn't fooled by his act. Grant's problem was that woman, that Skye. He tried to distract rather than face the problem head on.

By contrast, Clint's big problem was that he wasn't allowed to deal with his major problem directly: "Logan". He glared the man sparring with Grant. Clint still wanted to put an arrow in his eye - both eyes actually, since the first had healed. If he'd had his way, he would have killed the godling and reduced a threat to HYDRA at the same time.

Garrett wasn't listening to Clint, however. The archer shot his last arrow and started the long walk down the range to fetch his shafts. As he marched, he contemplated the issue, trying to think of another angle to come at it from. John Garrett believed that "Logan" was more useful than dangerous, when the opposite was true. All it would take was a momentary slip in the conditioning, and "Logan" would snap all of their necks with a gleeful giggle.

Ward hit the padded floor with a thump and a grunt. "Ah, you bastard," he laughingly groaned, holding out a hand to Logan. "You're getting better."

"It's starting to feel more natural." Logan hauled the other man to his feet with a pleased smile.

Clint scowled at the admission, and at the easy camaraderie between the two men. Ward wasn't that good of an actor; he was starting to enjoy Loki's company. He was starting to forget that "Logan" wasn't their friend.

The door to the gym opened as Clint yanked the last shaft loose. John entered with a woman close on his heels; the flash of red hair made his heart miss a beat. It wasn't Natasha but the woman sauntering behind John bore some resemblance to her. She had the same confidence and arrogance of Natasha, but she carried herself like she was the only woman in the world. Like the Black Widow, she was fit and well-formed, if a few inches shorter than his former partner. The lack of height exaggerated her curves and Clint felt his interest stir.

Her blue eyes flicked over him and settled on Ward before bouncing to Loki. Her smile widened as she took in the godling, her expression becoming predatory. Clint felt his jaw drop slightly. Fucking figures, he thought sourly, watching the new woman vamp for "Logan". Shoving the arrows into his quiver, he exited the range. He should at least pretend to be interested, even if she had the poor taste to be drawn to Logan.

"Clint, this is Annabelle Jordan." John nodded to him as the girl tore her eyes off of Logan and extended her hand toward him. "Annabelle, Clint Barton."

"Hawkeye." Her blue eyes roved over his form.

Her name was familiar to him, too. "Ricochet. I hear you can bounce bullets around corners." When she made a falsely modest expression, he added, "I'd love to see that sometime."

"I'd be happy to show you all." Though she'd been speaking to Hawkeye, her eyes darted over to Logan and it was clear whom she was really interested in showing off for.

Clint rolled his eyes; she was so busy ogling Loki that she didn't notice. Grant did, raising an eyebrow at him. Clint ignored him. "I have target practice. Ricochet - it was nice to meet you."

"You too," but once again, she wasn't talking to anyone but the brainwashed Loki.

Shaking his head, he headed back to the range, anger roiling through him like a wave.