A/N: As I told you months ago, the Blackdragon epopea wasn't over and. and it isn't-also because this is the 50th update!

Recently, I've started to read a bit of comics yet again, and I'm slowly strarting to write again of Chris' adventures. I don't know how long it will be between chapters, but I hope I'll be able to keep up the old schedule of the once a month update. Also, in the last few months, my style changed a bit (and the story ehre ismerely to explore Chris and Clint's relationship as friends, so, no action), so, don't feel shy about comments and criticism, I'm here to hear all of it. All is welcome, with the exceptions of flames. Few chapters have already been planned, and there will probably be a couple of stories taking place outside my usual comfort zone of the "what if Chris was there" kind of storyline- but it will be probably not untill next year, so, bear with me. ...

Disclaimer: Uhm..nope, no way, I don't own them. And I'm even 60 euros poorer as this afternoon, so, don't think I'll own them in the immediate future. if not at all.

SPILER ALERT: BLINDSPOT


Avengers Tower, New York

"Are you aware that Tony has been trying to get you to talk with him from at least a couple of days? And, seriously, now he has decided to try to bring me in. Which is pretty annoying, because, really, it's not like there's nothing else to do!". She leans against the glass window of the tower, her back against the cold and hard surface, casually talking with hands in her pockets while the man she has known for a long time passes her by, running. Clint Barton, one of the few people she had ever trusted with her secret, at least before reality forced her to go public. One of the few she considers not only a simple acquaintance, but a friend, a real one, a dear one. Maybe, her best friend in her messed-up world.

He stops on his tracks, eyes wide in surprise, and she grins. He doesn't even has to look back to know it. He knows her that well. "And desperate, I'd say. Your dear old brother always stroke me like the proud gajillionaire playboy." He would like to grin as well, but, really, he can't. He knows Christine Stark, has knew her since she was barely a teen, and he has learnt how her mind, and yes, her souls as well, work. He knows she is worried, because he knows what he is doing to her, and for so many reasons... recently, he hasn't been that sure about how he was supposed to behave around her, since the Scarlet Witch fiasco, actually. In England, she had come to see him, and had kissed him, but there was Janet, and then he was dead... and he didn't know what he was supposed to wait from her, what he was supposed to gave her. And then, Wisdom come into the picture. He is not jealous, never has been, not of Chris, at least. He likes her, has always liked her, but not in that way, but... she changed, maybe even too much, and he doesn't know if it's all right, how it has always been supposed to be, or if's simply... not her, just stress or PTSD or what else.

"Oh, I don't know, it's quite good. I mean, it's flattering. And a girl could use the ego, you know?" she smiles, her smile, though, tainted by worry. She takes him at his arm, and slowly they stroll towards the elevator. They are not running, she isn't going to, but she is leading, definitely. He grins, this time, laughing under his teeth. He doesn't know why Wisdom dates her exactly, but he could picture him getting off on her secret authority traits. She doesn't even need her power to get you to do as she wishes, just herself, the little minx. "I've given a look at your last performances" she blushes. She often does, with him. She doesn't know why, but when she is with Clint, every word that leaves her mouth sounds dirty.

"do I have to be flattered or worried? Because, seriously, what are you, a stalker?"

He grins, and she elbows him in the side. The elevators starts to ride, and again her back is against the cold surface. This time, though, her arms are crossed, and she is worried. "You took a blow to the head while you were in Russia. It was in the reports. And Bobbi told me." She lowers her voice. She doesn't know how to behave, what to say. It's always hard, when you are dealing with people breaking ups and divorces, but this time... Bobbi is her team-mate in Luke's team of Avengers, but Clint is her friend. Keeping a balance between the two of them isn't easy, especially since Russia has been their breaking point, the end for them. At least, for now. "In the last 21 outings you've performed with the Avengers since your return, you've been off target by a rage of 0.07% to as much as 3.2% in the 98.75% of your shots."

"Tiger shark's stripes were distracting me" he whispers, quite annoyed, without facing her, crossed arms in front of himself.

"I've run all possible scenarios, and I think I understand what's going on with you. But I'd rather prefer if you could talk with an actual specialist first."

The door opens, and here they are. The medical. Bay. And here he is, Dr. Donald Blake, the one who, just few weeks prior, sentenced her dead. And, probably, this is why she trusts this man she barely knows, just met few times. Because he is terribly honest. Probably, she trusts as much as she trusts the other man in the room – one she respects as well- Steve Rogers, former Captain America, the one who gave her the costume she is wearing in this time of her life, the one who gave her the chance of being an Avenger, and this time for real.

"What, he makes house calls now?" Clint asks, almost angry, turning to face Chris. Even if she is wearing heels, and quite high ones, he is still a lot taller than she is, and part of her should be... scared, felt little, small, but she doesn't. She can't.

"Clint, please, have a seat..."

"You scam my head when I'm not looking, you call in the Avengers Resident MD, and you call in Steve Rogers because you don't trust me to stay in the room, and you dare to ask me to take a seat and play it cool?"

He isn't shouting. His words are a mere whisper between closed teeth. And it's even worse. Now, she does feel little, small, even mean. He turns to watch at Steve and Don, almost exasperated. He has already been through this conversation into the last few days, normally with Tony, and, seriously, sharing it with his sister? He is not ready for that. "Look, I know I'm a hothead, but I've got a hard head as well. You didn't need to put spy-cams on me, you know me, I mean, I'm..."

"You are going blind" she whispers, her voice as low as her eyes. She doesn't even dare to look at him in the eyes. It's bad enough she hasn't faced him first. It's bad enough he hasn't trusted her with this, that he doesn't trust her with this. When, exactly, she asks herself, her heart contracting under the onslaught of mental pain, has her life turned into this, has she lost everything she held dear?

There's nothing to add any longer. At least, on her side. And apparently... on Clint's side as well. He just sits, interlacing his fingers right in front of himself. He doesn't look at them. He doesn't look at the one he claimed, once, to consider one of his best friends.

When he starts to make jokes, she knows it's bad. And that he knows it. "So, what, now Thor punches me with some Norse magic, you zap the hell out of me whatever is turning me blind and then Steve clears me for duty?" he tries to grin, desperately, and Chris doesn't need her powers to see that, behind the facade, one he can't even keep up that good any longer, he is seriously worried. And yes, maybe even desperate. She wonders if he was going to ask for help-her help, even, maybe, and she knows it's not a good thing. She knows Clint, as good as she knows Tony, and if they were willingly to go to her for help, so proud they are... it's bad.

She has been through enough bad things in the last couple of years, enough to last a lifetime. She doesn't want to add this to the list. She knows Clint, and he can be a real moron sometimes, but he doesn't deserve it. Because if he loses his sight... Hawkeye is everything he is, it's his real him, in a certain sense. Without his sight, how can he keep being an archer?

She joins the "Avengers resident MD", and passes her left hand few centimetres above the surface of the metallic table, enabling an holo-screen to appear in 3d, complete with images and data and texts and graphics, images passing quickly, as quickly as her brain, through her retinas, can elaborate the data, until everything stops.

Brain scans. His brain scans. The one they took without his consent, without him knowing. He grimaced, not in pain but with a slight anger.

"the cowl absorbed part of the blow, but not enough" Don Starts, pointing at few images "producing swelling, a swelling that has been building since then, putting pressure on the occipital lobe. Where vision is processed."

"Or, in your case, failing to process" she crosses her arms, looking again at the data, checking them once again, making the calculus again. It's her thing. He needs his eyes. She is a computer. It's just that easy. At least, sometimes.

"Drain it. It's just swelling. I'm not the first one to have it."

"Unfortunately, though, now it's late for mere draining. Any kind of operation at this time would be unwise."

Clint stops to look at Don; instead, he turns to look at Chris. She is still facing the screens, giving him her back, but he knows he'll feel it, he knows she'll feel his need to know, her blatant honesty. Like he knows she probably runs all the scenarios by herself. "Unfortunately, even with the scientific development of the last few years, we're still incapable of fully knowing the map of the brain. We can't know what it will be of you if we touch something we may be not supposed to touch. You could lose your sight, or you could lose mobility, we could compromise long term or short term memory. For all we know, we could even activate meta-human areas of the brain that in normal human haven't developed yet." She pauses, and she turns, meeting his eyes and his lifted eyebrows. She hates when he questions her. It's worse than being questioned by Tony. Probably worse than being questioned by Steve Rogers himself. "Worst case scenario, you die."

"This is worst case scenario, Chris. I'm an archer. It's everything that I am. I need my eyes." He doesn't scream, which is pretty much what scares the hell out of her. He is merely looking at her in the eyes, like a silent plea. She feels like crying. And she hates it, for many reasons. Because Clint isn't just an archer, he is so much more than Hawkeye. She saw it once, through the Endacrion, another world, where he was blind, but still he was a great man. Why can't he see it? Why can't he trust her as he sued to? "Tell me this is fixable"

It's Steve, this time, that gets closer to him, putting an hand on his shoulder, a friend for once and not a boss, a team leader. "they'll run few more tests, and they'll monitor the process, buying time where they can. They'll do everything possible to help you, but..."

"STOP WITH THE PITY AND TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!" He screams, his eyes red, and she actually winches, taking a few steps back, holding her heart. She thought it wasn't good Clint being so calm and casual, she thought he'd better be upset and screaming. Well, looks like she was wrong. A mad Clint it's not something she so used to; it is, actually, something that... upsets her, because it remembers her of someone else. She can't help but think of Tony, screaming at her, against her, when he was drunk, when she was barely a child.

She closes her eyes, and shows him another sets of images, again giving him her back. She isn't going to show him hoe he is affecting her, she can't. This is just not who she is. She doesn't wear a mask any longer, but the mask is still indeed on, 24/7.

"Occipital blindness doesn't affect the corneas. Technically speaking, your eyes are still fine. The problem is in your brain, that's becoming more and more unable to process the data it receives from the eyes. As the swelling grows, your perception will be off. Until now, it has just affected dept and perspective, but with time, other areas will be interested. Next it will be the auditory and the visual inputs to be compromised."

"you'll start see or hear things differently. Stationary objects will seem to move. Your mind may shift to past experience to process the lack of data. And then, the swelling will shut off completely the occipital lobe, leaving you blind."

"In the lab, there's something Tony and I have come up with to help you process currently while we built time, and..."

He closes his eyes, closes his fists. "No" he simply says, cold, unnerved, angry, exhausted.

"But..."

"No. No more science or lobe or tricks talk, okay? Just... let me be. And this stays between us."

"But, Clint..." She tries, again. This time, the plea, the sufferance, it's in her. And this time, it's her shoulder Steve Rogers touches, it's her he stops. It's still weird, having Steve Rogers, all mighty former Captain America being "close" to her. And it freaks her out a little, that he can tell her things without saying a word. And that she understands them.

Ne shakes his head, no, stopping her from proceeding. "Whatever you want, Clint. You know where to find us."

Bracing herself, low head, she comes back to the same elevator she come from. At her back, she can feels a sudden river of emotions-fear included- coming from Clint, and she cringes, a single tear escaping her dark eyes as she hears the sound of glass being broken, shattered in millions of tiny pieces.

/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\

She holds her knees, pieces of metal flying all around the room and blue holo-screens appearing from apparently nowhere, her mind wondering miles away while she sits, uncomfortable, in a lab that's not hers. But it's what she can do have right, the only thing. Avengers mansion hasn't been rebuilt after the attack of Agamotto, or who else for him, and she no longer possess all the facilities she used to be. Even her place, somewhere she has never really considered an home because she hasn't find it yet, is gone, sold to help the creation of Stark Resilent, to found it. The last piece of the inheritance the man she had called father, never dad, left her, them, but, at the same time, something... new, like a phoenix from her ashes.

Phoenix... Jean. Ray. And now, Hope. What will happen? What's going on? Who's that teen-ager, exactly, and why did she develop her powers at her birth- at least for a while? And why the "new" mutants are so different from the ones she has seen until now? What did Wanda exactly did when she erased the X Gene? And what is this girl is doing? The young ones, they are not in control of their abilities, and their powers... sometimes they look like more a plague than a blessing. Why is it happening? Is it Hope? Did they hurt some form of cosmic balance when they saved her?

Oh, God. She hates thinking that maybe Apocalypse was right. That maybe he had been their only chance to survive as a species, maybe she should have...

"Chris? Is that you? Say something! I can't see you!"Clint screams in panic as he enters. She simply clenches her fists and her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, rather annoyed, slamming the door shout with her techno-telepathic abilities. Then, she turns to face him, crossing her arms, and doesn't add a single word. She knows his condition, she knows how it will advance. And she knows he knows. Like she knows it's been a stupid game, and it's not funny. not at all. And, just one look, and he knows as well. "Uhm, nice place. So, this is where the geniuses happen, right?"

"This is where Tony's genius happens, for your information. I'm merely borrowing it while we wait for Damage Control to rebuilt yet again the mansion." She says, annoyed, for many reasons; she is annoyed with him, and is annoyed because she ash to be there to make her work. Thanks God Tony is in Asgard or where else. She couldn't deal with working with her brother. No chance in hell. She is a solo player, when it comes to technology.

He grins, the bustard, a mere whisper away from here (and she blushed, dammit, how the hell can he keep managing to make her blush after so many years?) "What, no secret hide-out, or fancy lab in an even fancier attic somewhere in fifth avenue?"

"I don't have the money. And these are words I don't like saying out loud, and I'm saying them to you. Here we are, with me admitting that I don't have any money left. At all. And I'm broke." She looks at him with that pout, and he can't help but grin again. He'd like to mess her hair, just to prove his point. She is like a baby sister to him. And she is simply adorable. Especially when she is annoyed.

Maybe he is a little bit sorry, and ashamed, for how he reacted with her. Just a little bit.

"Impress me, little miss perfection."

She pouts yet again, annoyed with him. She hates the nickname and he knows it, so, she merely telekinetically throws him the new cowl, Hawkeye style. "the sensors will help you register what's real and what's not. AND I'm so not going to explain how UV, infrared and radar motion detectors will work. See for yourself." She grins as she throws an apple in the air, and he immediately hits it, perfect bull's eye. "I'm working on a new model that will help with all other senses as well. This has been relatively easy, because the tech is developed right from the same one I use to interface myself with technology with my cyber-glasses when there's too much multitasking to do, and speaking of glasses…." She throws again something at him, a small box, rectangular. He opens it, and, inside, there's a pair of sunglasses, similar to the ones she usually wears, orange lenses instead of dark red ones. "for everyday wear. I think they will match everything in your closet. I do know your style pretty well after having had to deal with you for so many years, after all." She grins, amused, sitting on the desk.

"Oh, you give me the best gifts" he grins, removing the cowls and putting on the glasses, seeing Chris in her old Blackdragon costume in the instant he doesn't wear the sensors, shivering, knowing she saw it, is seeing it, but he keeps shout. "Thank you X-Santa. I'm glad my letter finally reached the North Pole of Utopia."

"Be glad I don't read minds for fun, Clint, because if I found out you imagined me clad in one of those kinky Santa Claus-like costumes, blindness would be the last of your problems…"

She bits her tongue. Socially, she has always been pretty awkward, differently from Tony. She isn't as good as he is. She doesn't know when she is supposed to say or to talk. And, his darken sudden mood, tells her she just said the wrong thing. Because Clint thinks everything he is it's in his eyes, while she doesn't.

"Ok, listen, I'll just go now, and… just, doesn't say a word about this with the others, ok?"

He leaves the room, and again Chris holds her knees, bracing herself.

When does her life turned so complicated? When did she lose her best friend?

/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\

He just took off a small group of b-league wonnabe gangsters, thugs that didn't know what to do, and he did it against doctor's orders. Doctor, and Steve, and Chris' orders. But, still, Clint Barton is grinning. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but what he is supposed to do? Wait for all hell to break loose? Not his style. Tomorrow, he may be blind. He isn't going to waste time sitting at home waiting for it to happen.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Like, sitting at home?" he turns, and he doesn't know exactly why. He know Chris is not there, that it's just her psychic manifestation of the physical plane, but, still... even if it's just in the back of his head, he turns. And he sees her. Her astral form, long reddish hair, untamed, free, falling on her shoulders and her back, way longer than she ever had, but with her trademark black clothes, the shirt and the dress-pants and the high heels. "Commander Rogers will not be pleased. You are not cleared for active duty."

"Since when do you care about being cleared? I don't remember you following Doctor Blake's orders last time you almost died." He pauses, looking at her. She is extremely sad. Not disappointed, or maybe.. she is. He isn't exactly trusting her. And she doesn't deserve it. Maybe, it's him she doesn't deserve in her life- she went through enough on her own, his own baggage, she should avoid it. "What are you going to do? Ground me? Take away my car keys for a month? No more money?" again the look. He can sees even in her mental form. Or maybe, he is seeing her because this is her real self, the one she can't shift as much as she wants, her truest form. "Look, I don't fall in line when people come calling. You know me. I have a problem, I take things in my own hands."

"Are you admitting you are an hypocrite? Because last time I checked, every time I had a problem and took things in my own hands, I remember you coming to me complaining I didn't trust you enough." She pauses, hands in her pockets. He wonders if she is doing this wherever she is as well. "Listen, I understand you, I really do. But going into a revenge crusade as mad you are, it's bad enough. And with a worsening condition and with an untested equipments? There's a word for it on the dictionary. It's called suicide, sweetheart."

"Steve already gave me the "my own worst enemy it's myself, and you could be the best of ourselves but you simply don't want to and don't try as hard as you should" line, so drop it. I can handle pretty much anything all on my own." He grins. "besides, when I asked you to be my little own CSI, don't tell me you didn't know what I was up to? I remember someone telling me, just couple of days ago, that she knew me pretty well."

She crosses her arms, annoyed as hell. She saw this coming, and yet she didn't do anything to prevent it. She already knows she'll be dead worried about him, like she has often been in the past. And she knows it's nobody's fault but her own. "I analyzed the traces found on your mentor's costume. I got a lead, but I don't know how solid it may be yet. I'd need more time to do further analysis, but I know you, and you'll want the data now and you'll ask me to take care of my own business instead of your own."

"Good, I'm glad you are not patronizing me. I like it when you are not an hypocrite like Steve or Tony."

"I found blood- not belonging to your mentor, I mean. A-Positive. Not too uncommon, unfortunately, but I've already put in motion a DNA analysis. According to the wounds, before being tortured he fought back. There was DNA under his fingernails as well, and hair samples. Whoever did this, doesn't look at CSI. Or they want to be found. Which is, I'll tell you, worrying me. Like the fact he was wearing his old costume. It means it could be related to your common past. It could be personal."

"You are always worried about me, princess, nothing new here. So, anything else? Any solid lead I could use'"

"I shouldn't be doing this. If Rogers finds out I'm helping you out in this revenge thing, I can kiss bye-bye my Avengers membership..."

"Yeah, but you have a thing for blue eyes and a sucker for me, so I know you'll just tell me whatever info is going through your mind right now. Preferably avoiding telling the Boss."

"I found tin chloride and silver on his costume. And a resin. It was used in the 80s in Plexiglas and sand, common to the five borough area."

"I need you to narrow it down, to know exactly where it came from."

"I'm doing my best, but Tony's a builder, not a spy like I was, he has priorities which are different from my own. He doesn't have the tools I had in my lab. It will take time. Even if...listen, I'm not telling you to go there, but, you and him, you met in the carnie, right? And all these things... they are commonly present in funhouses"

"Like the one in Coney Island. Hence, the sand." He grins. He doesn't listen to her, and she doesn't even try to stop him as he rides his bike towards his objective. She'll never learn to keep it shout. Not when it's about Clint, at least. He'll always have a way with her. That it is, if he'll survive.

/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\

"Chris? Please, tell me these sunglasses of yours have a comm.-link or whatever..." Sitting at the desk, surrounded by diagrams and data and all things science, she lifts her eyebrows and check the time. Ten minutes and he is already begging for more help? That's a personal record for Clint. As annoying as he can be, he knows that, if she says something, it's that and nothing else.

"What do you want, Clint? I'm trying to work, here!" feet on the surface of the table, hands crossed at the back of her head, she shifts mentally from panel to panel, looking at the current of info floating right before her eyes. "Do you have the DNA results for those hair and blood?"

She lifts again her eyebrows. There's something... odd with Clint, something she isn't sure she likes. He isn't just worried. It's... something else as well. Something more, deeper. And she has a feeling it doesn't concern him going blind.

Here it is, his last stand. Clint is probably dying and it's all because of her, because she can't say no to him, because she can't break his promises to him, she couldn't go to Rogers or Steve or Thor or whom for him and tell them of the mess she just made. And not of her own life, but of the life of someone else. All because he played the best friend card.

God, sometimes she hates him. And to say she used to attracted to him a long time ago... (well, maybe not that long ago...)

"Uhm...no? I'm trying in other databases, but nothing come out until now..."

"Run them against mine. No time to explain, no time for questions,. Just do it."

"after all this time, first thing you do is make a phone call? We need some face time, don't you think?"

She jumps from her seat. There's another voice- a male as well. And... is he mocking Clint? Or are those threats? She doesn't like it.

It's her fault, she thinks as she shivers, sweating for the fear. She did it. She should have said no. Too bad she couldn't.

And then... here it is, right before her eyes, she look at it, dumbstruck. The results. And she doesn't like them. Because it means she has been right. The perp wanted to be found. And it was personal. Maybe not for Clint's mentor, but for her friend himself.

"There's a 65% match on the DNA. It means you and the perp..." she doesn't end the sentence, because she knows. He just needed a confirmation, because he knows. 65%. It means, same parents. Same parents, it means a brother. And there's only one she knows about... Barney Barton, Clint's older brother. Who's dead, from years, or at least, presumably so. Which is bad enough.

To add injury to the injured, though, he goes off-line, and she falls back, sitting against her own free will on the chair, face hidden by her palms, eyes wide open beneath her fingers. She is panicking. And she doesn't like it. She doesn't like it because she is Chris Stark, mistress of well-arranged plans, hidden agendas and exit strategies. Her exit strategies have exit strategies. She is a spy. And she should know better than this. She knew it was a trap, and yet, she sent her best friend right into it, to face the lion. Bloody idiot. Didn't life taught her anything? She is a spy, for God's sake, she knew, she felt it, and yet...

She shivers, wondering what she should do, what is the better option, what's worst, keeping her words and risking losing him, or breaking a promise and saving his life? What would Clint want? She doesn't know. She doesn't even care that there's a good chance she'll no longer have a part on this time when everything will be said and done. This is not the problem. She doesn't care. And she probably never will. There are bigger things to be worried about.

She hears a ping, the another, then another one, and again and again and again. She turns to look at the monitor, knowing too well what's going on.

The moment his vitals shifts, her inner war is over, and she knows there's just one things she can do. She hopes he'll live to hate her for this.

/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\/°\

"…You look hot with a scrub…" As he whispers the words as soon as he comes back to the land of the living beings, Chris would like to hit in the head again and again if she could. He put himself into danger, getting her into troubles as well, and all he can say is that he thinks she looks hot with scrubs?

"Don't push yourself, you are still in critical condition" Don says, forcing yet again Barton in a laying position, but grinning a little. First time he met Christine, was when she was trying to save her brother's mind, and in that occasion… she isn't your average Stark, s much as she claims the opposite, like proven by the fact she can actually blush. Like right now.

"Dr. Blake found traces of Pym particles in your bloodstream. The amount would suggest they are not from casual contact but a residue from your days as Goliath. You should have mentioned this earlier, since evidences seem to suggest you were actually aware of this fact."

"Pissed off because I just embarrassed you? Though you were flattered…"

"…I used nanobots to migrate them inside the swelling, and to invert their polarity. We've reduced the swelling."

"Just enough to operate. It's the only shot we have."

"Didn't you all tell me surgery was a no?..."

"It was, until he decided to take pity on you." Chris blatantly says, indicating with her index a man at her back, Clint's own brother.

"Did you brainwash my brother?" he ask her, lifted eyebrows. To Chris, it sound almost like "I hope you'll not tell me you did indeed brainwash him."

She fumes, blushing even more if it possible. She hates it. She hates the effects he ahs n her, how he can get in her verves. It's rather annoying. And embarrassing.

"His bone-marrow stem cells are a perfect match for your owns. We hope that Dr. Blake's theory will work and avoid furthermore damage."

"Hope?"

"…this sort of transplant is normally used for leukemia, and is still in clinical trial, so, technically, I shouldn't perform it on you and by doing it I'm risking my career, but…"

"…but be glad your friend here is a spy who dates a spy who works with a doctor who's part of the super-hero community and is too nice to say no to something like that."

"Stark got an hold on the raw data." Don says as he injects a white serum into Clint's bloodstream. "We're hoping that Barney's stem cells will mix with your genetic makeup and regenerate the damage done to your occipital lobe"

"…hoping?..." he asks again.

"Yes, hoping, sweetheart. Now, close your eyes, count backwards from ten and make your own luck, or I'll make you fall asleep with my telepathy"

Those are the last words he hears as she, not too gently, but not even with too much force, pushes him back against the bed.

Few days later. Avengers tower, rooftop.

She sits on the baluster of the balcony, looking at the city, looking at the sky. It's weird, the sky in New York, so much light you can't see the stars. The stars… she has been there, she has saw them, passing right before her eyes. But it was another life. She was different, back then. An X-man, and not an Avenger, an X-Man when it actually meant something.

He arrives at her back, and uncombs her hair before going to seat at her wide, looking at the sky just like her.

"Dr. Blake says your smart-ass mouth is already back" she grins, a little. She has been worried, and not for the operation, not only, at least. She has lost so many people… losing him, one of the few people she truly trusts, she doesn't know if she could actually handle it.

"Yep. I don't even need the cowl any longer." He grins, but looks at her questioningly as she throws ay him, with her own hands, a pair of sunglasses. His ones. The ones she gave him.

"Little gift from your friend here. I'd suggest to hold on to these. You may never know when you'll need to see in pitch black in the future…" she smiles, a little sad, and embraces her knees, turning back to look up into the sky. "So…. Did you get this solo stuff out of you system?"

"Never."

"You know, I don't know why, but I felt you were going to answer me this way…" she grins, keeps looking at the skyline as he sits at her side, almost mimicking his position. "Just… you don't need to do things on your own. Or alone."

"I know, I know, but you know me, I need to make my own luck, take problems in my own hands."

"I know, it's just… I can't trust you if you don't trust me, ok? You are who you are, but I am who I am, and I need a little help from time to time."

"C'mon, you know I trust you, but I am who I am and…"

"And it's ok, but you expected me to take Bobbi's side, which is, let me tell you, complete nonsense. I mean, she may be my team-mate, but you are my friend. You are one of my oldest friends, and, for some unknown reasons, even one of my dearest ones, even if you do seem to forget it every now and then, and…" she stops, and stares at him, quite in shock. Just before she starts laughing, almost like madwoman "…you thought I was jealous? Oh God, I don't know if I should keep laughing or throws up…"

She chooses laughing, an honest to God laughter.

"Ehy, c'mon, give this guy some room! You kissed me, and when I told you to stop, you vanish…"

"… aka move to Genosha in order to keep up my work. And besides, it was just a kiss. And I don't even know why actually tried to kiss you. It was disgusting. It was like kissing my own brother."

"…I started dating Echo and you ended up in Wisdom's bed…"

"…for your personal information, Pete and I were already dating…"

"… and then Bobbi come back and you vanish yet again."

"I didn't vanish! I moved to Britain because Osborn wanted me dead! And I did come back! And joined your own Avengers! Where there was Bobbi as well!"

"Wait. You really didn't have a thing for me?"

"Do I look like an innocent 18 years old girl to you?" he produces from nowhere two bears, non alcoholic, and offers her one, and they drink in comfortable silence, keeping looking at the metropolitan landscape, the urban jungle.

"Are you saying that you had a thing for me when you were 18?"