A/N: So, seeing as I indulged myself with a lot of fun and games in the last couple of chapters, I thought I'd better put a little more seriousness into proceedings in this chapter, just for a little balance. I'm very conscious that Thor and NaCl don't get as much time as the others, so this chapter is dedicated to fleshing them out more.

I'll be curious to know how you think I'm going with them... :)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Thor sat at the table in his apartment and stared at the image on his lap top screen. Jane Foster's beautiful face smiled back at him from her avatar picture on Skype and Thor couldn't help himself from reaching out and tracing her features with one finger. He was assaulted with the memory of the last time he touched Jane. Now he was only touching cold plastic, but when he'd last held Jane in his arms Thor remembered her sweet softness, the gentle fragrance of her skin and the taste of her against his lips. He squeezed his eyes closed, the need for this woman consuming him once again. It wasn't just a physical thing, Thor longed to just hear Jane say his name, to know she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her. Tony had been right, this ache wasn't going away, in fact it was getting worse every day, and now Thor really didn't have a choice. He had to contact Jane and they had to talk.

Thor's jaw hardened as he fought back nerves he was unaccustomed to dealing with. Before, he would have jumped into any situation without a second thought, careless of any consequences. He'd been the reckless, self-absorbed son of Odin and for a long time, that was how Thor had seen himself. It was only with his exiling to this realm that things had changed for Thor. Midgard had shown Thor who he was and more importantly, who he really wanted to be. He'd understood his responsibility, the burden his birthright brought with it at long last, almost after it was too late. Midgard had been saved but he'd lost Jane in the process. Now that Thor was back on Midgard, his newly found conscience would give him no peace. If his actions in any way brought harm to Jane, Thor wasn't sure how he'd be able to go on, so that meant he should leave her to live out her life in peace. Only he could not put her from his mind and Tony's words haunted him. Thor wanted to do the right thing and feared the right thing for him would not be the same for Jane.

"I need a sign," he implored Jane's picture. "Tell me what I should do?"

The words were no sooner out of Thor's mouth when a bubble popped up to say Jane Foster was on line. Thor's eyes went wide. "Tis the sign," he murmured. His hand went to move the little arrow over the 'Call' button when there was a knock at the door. Thor hesitated.

"Thor, it's me," called out Bruce through the door. "Fury is here for that debrief meeting about Cuba in the media room. We're waiting on you and Tony is already making the vein in Fury's neck throb. It ain't pretty."

Thor grimaced and took his hand away from the computer. "I am coming, Bruce Banner," he called back. Thor stood up and headed towards the door with a last glance over his shoulder at Jane's picture on the screen as he vowed to speak to her as soon as the meeting was done.

oooOOOOooo

Clint shook his head as he put on his arm guard and picked up his bow. "That Tony Stark is some piece of work. I swear the guy could talk under wet concrete."

Natasha gave a little smile, but didn't comment as they finished getting dressed in their Avenger's uniforms.

Clint came to stand beside her, leaning up against the row of lockers. "How did you put up with all of his non-stop talking and the way it always has to be about him? You deserve a medal after that infiltration mission."

Natasha finished checking her gun and holstered it before giving Clint his answer. "Tony likes to talk so much because it muddies the water and you can't see the still waters underneath."

Clint's eyebrow shot up. "Tony Stark has still waters?"

Natasha nodded. "I know it's hard to believe when he's playing the clown, but I saw him when he thought he was dying and there is a lot more going on below the surface then he lets the world see."

Clint inclined his head. "I guess I'm going to have to bow to your vast ability to get a read on people, because I can't see it."

"That's the idea," she noted. "Tony Stark knows how to project an image that has just enough of him to ring true to people but still distract them from the real person underneath."

"So, you've changed your assessment on him not being a good fit for the Avenger's initiative?" Clint quizzed her.

"No," said Natasha said without hesitation, "I stand by my call on that."

"But?"

Natasha looked thoughtful. "Tony Stark isn't a good fit for the Avenger's initiative as it was first envisaged," she said slowly, "but I think that the concept of the Avenger's is changing, and he's a part of that."

"Do you actually think we can be a real team, given enough time?" asked Clint sceptically.

Natasha gave a restrained smile. "I kind of like thinking anything is possible at the moment." Her statement hung between them. She could see Clint was struggling with wanting to talk about her brain tumour. He'd been carefully avoiding the topic and obviously waiting for her to bring it up. Clint had also been careful in not being deferential to her and asking if she was alright every few minutes, which Natasha really appreciated. This was so much for her to deal with and she didn't know if she could handle having to calm his fears as well.

Clint was looking at her intently. "Are we ever going to talk about it?"

"I only told you about it yesterday," she hedged.

Clint made a rueful face. "It feels like a lot longer."

He moved in closer, flicking a quick eye around the locker room to make sure they were alone. "Have you made a decision?" he asked in a low voice.

Natasha could see that her bad news was weighing heavily on the normally wise-cracking archer. "You shouldn't care," she whispered.

He grimaced. "I shouldn't be a Cub's fan, but here we are."

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Did you just compare me to a failing baseball team?"

"They're not failing," he said hotly. "They're just in a bit of a slump."

"For the last one hundred and twenty years?" she teased him.

"It's only been one hundred and three years," said Clint defensively. "And they're due."

"Some might argue they were overdue," replied Natasha, tongue in cheek.

A small smile played around his lips as he leaned in closer. "What can I say, I like long shots, it kind of comes with the bow and arrows."

Clint was so close she could feel the warmth of his body rolling off him and over her. His blue eyes sparkled with cheekiness as he looked back at her and Natasha was struck with how handsome he was, and not for the first time. Emotional entanglements were something she normally avoided like the plague. In her line of work they were just a huge liability but Clint Barton had somehow made it under her defences. Normally Natasha was all about keeping objectivity and summing up situations, but with Clint she felt like she could actually relax and be something more than just a super spy. The thing was, lately, it was more than just relaxation that she was feeling around Clint and that worried her. All she could think was it must be the brain tumour messing with her common sense.

"What's the brain tumour?" asked Clint, suddenly looking serious.

To her horror Natasha realised she must have said the words aloud. She really was losing it. "Nothing," she said hastily and went to brush past him.

Clint's hand came out and grabbed her arm, keeping her there but now they were even closer, practically nose to nose. "I want you to have the operation," he said determinedly.

"That's not your call to make," she said unsteadily, unnerved being this close to him.

"Do I at least get a vote?" he wanted to know.

She blinked. "Why would you?"

"Because we're in this together and I think I should get a vote."

"In what together? The job?"

"The job, each other's lives," said Clint firmly. "We have a stake in each other."

Natasha's brow creased as she tried to work out what he meant by that.

Clint kept his voice low. "You and I, we have secrets, things no one else knows about us. We've chosen lives where we spend most of our time not existing. With you, I exist, you can see me and I can see you and we both need that and I'm not prepared to lose what we have without a fight," he said, his tone almost fierce. "I'm not prepared to lose you without a fight."

They were so close now that the smallest of movements would have them kissing, all it would take is one of them to make the first move. Natasha held her breath, caught in Clint's blue gaze as his eyelids drooped, the air between them fairly crackling with tension as he lowered his head, their lips grazing together for the first time.

"Hawkeye, Black Widow, I have an update on Justin Hammer's status." The smooth tones of Jarvis' manufactured voice filled the tiny space between them and they both jumped, pulling back. Tony had given them a link to Jarvis so that he could keep them updated on Hammer's whereabouts at any time thanks to the tracking device in the other man's body.

Jarvis' timing couldn't have been worse, or better, Natasha couldn't work out which. Her lips were still tingling from the lightest of touches from Clint as she tried to get her heart to stop pounding. "Where is he, Jarvis?" she demanded to know, making her tone all business.

Clint looked to be slower in recovering as he just kept staring at her.

"Heading towards the Avenger's Tower," Jarvis supplied.

Natasha and Clint looked at each other in amazement. Clint's jaw hardened. "I don't like the sound of that."

Natasha gave a short nod. "Neither do I," she said as they both grabbed the rest of their gear and headed towards the shuttle to take them back to New York and the Avenger's Tower.

A/N: So congrats to those who guessed JH was walking into the Avenger's Tower, next chapter we find out why. ;)