Katie, be careful what you ask for. You thought the storyline ended too soon? You should know me better than that, so here you go! This is a revamping of one of my Whumptober chapters, fitting it into where the characters are now. Some of those chapters seem to work well here, so who am I to tell my muses no?

Thanks to my latest followers - welcome to the world of Fitzbarton

Also, this will include appearances from characters from one of my favorite TV shows, just as I did in the original chapter. I also included a nod to a detective series I read when I was a child.

Now, without further adieu, here is the next chapter:

The next couple of weeks seemed like they were going smoothly, but Mikayla began noticing things about Clint. There were times he seemed a little off like he didn't know where he was. She would be talking to him about the wedding, and he would just nod, as a look would cross his face showing he had no idea what she was talking about. He was also phrasing things differently, resembling the time he'd lost his memory. Mikayla went down to the lab to speak with Bruce about it. He told her he'd keep an eye on Clint for her and try to get him into medical to check him out.

A couple of days after the conversation with Bruce, Clint and Mikayla were on the roof, sitting next to the pool. Clint was drawing schematics for some new arrows while Mikayla focused on her tablet. "Agent Fitzgerald? There's a delivery for you down at the front desk."

"Thanks, Friday." She leaned over and kissed Clint on the cheek. "Be right back." Mikayla tossed a robe over her swimsuit and went down to the lobby. "Thanks, Bob," she greeted the security guard with a smile as he handed her a white box.

"How's the wedding planning?" He asked as he checked in a visitor.

"Coming along nicely, thanks. I still can't believe in September I'm going to be Mikayla Barton."

"It'll be here before you know it. Just remember to spend more time on the marriage than you do on the wedding, put each other first, don't go to bed angry, and you should have a long marriage."

"Thanks, I'll take all the advice I can get." After checking to make sure the box wasn't ticking, she lifted the lid. "Yay, it's our invitations." Mikayla turned to Bob. "Can I borrow a pen?" He handed her one and, taking out one of the invitations, she scribbled something on one, then gave it and the pen back to the security guard. "Consider yourself the first one to receive an official invitation."

Bob opened the envelope and read it. "Thelma and I will be there."

"Good. See you later, Bob."

"Oh, that's not all." He reached underneath the counter and reappeared with a vase holding two dozen blue roses. "Special occasion?"

Mikayla thought for a minute. "None that I know of." She went to thank Bob, but he was on the phone, so instead, she put the vase down, waved at him, then picked the vase back up and returned to the tower. "Friday? Is Agent Barton still at the pool?"

"Yes, he is."

"Thanks, Friday."

"Always, Agent Fitzgerald."

Mikayla took the elevator back up to the roof. "Clint?" She didn't immediately see him, so she walked around, finding him sitting at the edge of the roof, feet dangling over the edge. "Clint?" He turned his head around to look at her. "I got the flowers." He nodded. "What are they for?"

"The flowers? No clue."

"You didn't send them? They're just like the ones you got me for Valentine's Day."

"Why would I get you flowers?"

Mikayla had a sinking suspicion the injection didn't work like they thought it would. "Clint?"

"What?" He snapped at her, which is something he'd never done.

"Where's Barney?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"I'm getting Bruce." She threw the flowers to the ground, shattering the vase, and stormed off.

"What the hell is wrong with her? Damn, women can be so freaking moody. How do I know her again, anyway? And where the hell am I?"

As soon as Mikayla got back inside the tower, she crossed her arms and started crying. "Friday, where's Doctor Banner?"

"In the lab. Did you need him?"

"Please. Send him up to my room?"

"At once, Agent Fitzgerald."

When Bruce arrived, he wasn't alone. Steve and Bucky followed. Mikayla had made it to her bedroom and was curled up on her bed, crying into a pillow. "Mikayla?" Bruce asked, putting an arm around her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"It's Clint. His memory's gone again. He doesn't know who I am, and he thinks Barney is still alive. The medicine didn't work."

"Where is he?"

"Pool," was all Mikayla could say between sobs.

"We'll get him," Steve said, nodding toward Bucky. The two super soldiers left.

Mikayla had curled up into Bruce. "What's going on? Where's my fiancé? That man out there is not him." She began rocking.

"Friday, have Thor come in here, please."

"Of course."

Soon, Thor arrived. "How can I -?" Before he could finish the sentence, he noticed Mikayla shivering and knelt next to her. "Fair Mikayla," he softly said, rubbing circles into her temples, "the doctor and I are here for you." Bruce allowed Thor to take Mikayla and hold her against his chest. "Pay attention to my breathing, focus on my voice, my little archer." As Thor was bringing Mikayla down from her panic attack, Bruce told Thor about Clint's relapse. When Mikayla stopped shivering and was sniffing, Thor pulled her away from him. "Are you with us?"

She nodded. "Thanks. Bruce, what happens now?"

Bruce took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll contact Shuri, see if maybe there's something with the formula. Cap and Bucky went to get Clint and bring him to the lab.

"He's not there," Bucky said as they came back to the room. "He's down in the gym. We were headed there."

"I'll go with you. Let me change clothes." Mikayla chased them out of the bedroom so she could change clothes. She returned to them, donning a SHIELD t-shirt and yoga pants. The group went down to the gym to find Clint shooting arrows into various targets. "Mind if I join you?"

"Free country." Clint continued shooting. "Nice base for SHIELD." Mikayla ignored him and started shooting, matching Clint's target for target. "No way you're doing that. No one matches me. I never miss."

"Neither do I." Mikayla concentrated on the targets and her breathing rather than Clint's muscles flexing and moving as he shot.

"Pfft. No girl could ever beat me."

"Cocky bastard, aren't you?"

"Sweetheart, you ain't seen nothing yet." The two continued shooting until they'd each emptied two quivers. Mikayla stopped after shooting her last arrow, turning to look at Clint. "What? Impressed with my muscles? I've got one you haven't seen yet?" He shot her a lecherous smirk.

"God, I'm glad I didn't know you when you were younger. I don't think I've met such a jerk." She tossed her bow and quiver aside. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"No," Clint sidled up to her, "but I'd like to. I've always liked feisty broads." Clint put an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. "Whaddya say we get out of here and go find us a closet or something? Maybe one of those beds in the medical unit? I'd love to see you without that t-shirt."

Mikayla slapped him. "I'm sorry, but the Clint I know would never treat me like that."

"Aw, baby, just one little kiss."

Mikayla drew back a fist and punched him in the jaw. "Get the hell away from me," she screamed and stormed out of the gym.

Steve and Bucky jumped down from the observation deck. "Buddy," Bucky muttered as he brought his metal arm back, "screw it, don't mind at all." He propelled his arm forward, knocking Clint out, with Steve catching him before he hit the ground. The two of them dragged Clint's unconscious body to the med bay.

After Mikayla darted out of the gym, she went straight up to her room. "I've got to get out of here. I can't take seeing him like this anymore. I'm not strong enough for this." She grabbed a backpack, stuffing clothes into it. As she went to leave, she paused, then turned back around, finding a piece of paper and a pen, then hurriedly scribbled a note. The last thing she did before leaving was to take off her engagement ring, setting it on the message, then disappearing down the service elevator.

Once Steve and Bucky got to the med bay, they tossed him onto a stretcher. "That didn't look to be pleasant." Bruce looked over at them. "I was watching on the monitor."

"Have you heard from Shuri?" Bucky asked.

Bruce nodded. "I'd like to wait for Nat to get back from her mission to update everyone."

"I'm back." Natasha entered the room. "What's going on?"

Bruce caught her up to speed, then had Friday send Tony down. He and Pepper arrived shortly. "Shuri thinks that the initial injection from the bad guys affected him differently than she expected because of the incident with Loki. She's working on an updated formula and, hopefully, will have an answer soon."

"Has anyone updated Mikayla?" Pepper asked, concerned.

Steve shook his head. "We haven't seen her since she decked Barton in the gym."

"Friday? Whereabouts of Maid Marian, please?"

"Unknown, sir. She overrode my protocols and disabled the cameras."

"Damn it!" Natasha swore. She ran up to Clint's room, and Steve made his way to Mikayla's. After searching, they met in the hallway. "Nothing. You?"

"Dresser drawers open, and clothes flung everywhere, also appears to be a backpack missing. That's not all." He held up the note. "I think everyone needs to hear this." The two went back down to the medical bay, where everyone else was still gathered. "She left a note." Steve unfolded it and read it out loud. "I can't be around Clint anymore, at least not this version of him. I'm not strong enough to handle having to wade through twenty years of his life that I didn't know anything about. It's tearing me apart to see him this way, knowing he doesn't remember me or anything we've been through together. Thanks for grafting me into your family. I'll never be able to repay what you've done for me and how you've supported me. Don't bother trying to find me. I've got to discover myself again. Love, Mikayla aka Maid Marian." He looked up, his eyes glistening. "She also left this." He pulled her engagement ring out of his jeans pocket.

"We can't let our precious Mikayla go that easy," Thor stated. "Heimdall checks in on her from time to time. I'll go back to Asgard and see what I can find out." He spun and left the room.

"Do we have any idea where she would go?" Bruce asked, rechecking the computer to see if Shuri had sent any updates.

"I'd say the farmhouse, but that's too obvious, plus after Barney, I don't think she's ready to see a farm for a while," Steve said.

"How did she leave?" Bucky asked.

"Friday? Run a scan on the vehicles in the parking garage, please."

"Yes, boss." After a few moments of silence, Friday replied. "It appears she left on Agent Barton's motorcycle."

"Tony," Bruce said. "She was trained by the four best spies out there, and her last name is Coulson. Her computer skills can't be beat, even by you. If anyone knows how to go off the grid, it's her. And, even if she didn't take her bow with her, she's just as competent with the small arsenal of weapons she'll be carrying. How do you find someone like that?"

"You become them," Natasha spoke up. "You start to think like they do, putting yourself in their shoes. That's how Clint found me, every time. It's what we're trained for. I'm going to go get started." Natasha disappeared into the tower.

"I'll be in the lab," Tony said, following Natasha out the door of the med bay.

Bucky looked over at Steve. "Do you have Misty's number?"

"Good idea, Bucky." Steve pulled out his phone and called Mikayla's best friend, telling her what was happening. She said she and Sam would be right over.

"Steve?" Misty yelled as soon as she and Sam came inside.

"They're in the medical bay, Miss Randall."

Misty and Sam hurried back to the trio still there. "Any update?"

Steve shook his head. "Any idea where she might go?"

"I figured she'd check in with me first, but I haven't heard from her. Have you checked the farm?"

"Not yet, due to the incident with Barney."

"I guess you could check her uncle's gravesite. She used to go there a lot right after he died."

"What about her parents' graves?"

"They were cremated, and their ashes were spread around the fields at the farmhouse."

Bruce's computer pinged. He donned his glasses and looked at the screen. "I sent Shuri Clint's medical records from after the thing with Loki. She's updated the formula, says it should be a permanent fix."

"Let's hope so," Steve said. "He's going to be impossible to live with if Mikayla's not around. I can already sense the growing guilt." While Steve was talking, Bruce was mixing up the formula Shuri provided, filling a syringe, and injecting Clint's neck. Thankfully, Clint was still knocked out from the 1-2 punch of Mikayla and Bucky, so he didn't fight back. "How long before he wakes up?"

"Probably a couple of hours," Bruce answered. "Go ahead and do what you need to do. I'll be here to keep an eye on him. I'll have Friday send for Tony if I need any help." He shooed them out the door, then returned to Clint's bedside after sending correspondence back to Shuri.

When the group went to the living room, Natasha was already there. "Find anything?" Steve asked, sitting down next to her on the couch.

"No clues. No mention of where she might go. I did find this." Natasha pulled Mikayla's phone out of her pocket. "Clint's bike doesn't have GPS or a tracker on it, so no way to find her through that. She also left her tablet, so that's out, too. How's Clint?"

Sam answered. "Shuri came through with a more potent formula, so Doc shot him up. Now we're in a holding pattern."

A couple of hours later, Clint shuffled into the living room and went straight to the kitchen, grabbing bottled water and leaning against the door jamb. "Don't try to tell me it's not my fault. Do we have any leads?"

"Nope."

"Damn it, Tasha. I've screwed this one up beyond repair. I don't see a way to fix it." Clint guzzled the water.

"We'll find her, Clint. You two have not gone through everything to this point to not make it. Clint, look at me." She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "Don't give up, don't ever give up. You're a fighter, and she's a fighter." Clint nodded, leaning back despondently into the couch cushion.

After leaving the tower, Mikayla thought about heading to the farm but knew she wasn't ready to face that scene yet. East was out of the question since that would lead to Long Island, and she didn't know anyone there. Part of her considered heading west and trying to track down the cowboy that found her in the desert but decided against it. "That would be like finding Clint, and I don't need that now. So, guess south it is." Mikayla revved up the bike, made sure the backpack was fitted tightly around her, then took off down the interstate. Four hours later, she found herself in Washington, D.C. Finding a not-quite-hole-in-the-wall motel, she checked in and cleaned up from the trip. "I need to get some phones and a cheap tablet," Mikayla remembered passing a convenience store on the way into the city, so after taking a shower (she was proud of herself for not having a mental breakdown over that), she changed clothes and walked down to the store. She showed back up at the motel with a pay-as-you-go phone, a no-name tablet, and a wig she'd found at a bargain outlet. "There are not enough redheads in the world, I guess. First, however, I need food." Pulling out the tablet and connecting it to the motel's wi-fi, she searched for restaurants in the area, settling on a Chinese one with good reviews. "Just because I'm off the grid doesn't mean I have to eat like it."

After eating, she returned to the motel and changed into a tank top and shorts. "Guess I should call someone. Not sure how long I can stay here." Doing a quick search of the internet, she found the number she was looking for.

"NCIS, Special Agent McGee."

"Tim, it's Mikayla. I need some help."

"Did your fiancé get hurt again?"

"Not exactly. I'm here in the D.C. area and need a place to stay, trying to stay off the grid."

"Give me a couple of hours, and I'll see what I can find. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just got some stuff going on, and I needed to get my head on straight, make some changes." She rattled off her phone number to him. "Thanks, Tim. I hope I'm not imposing."

"You're not. I'll call you when I find something. Hey, Mikayla?"

"Yeah?"

"Get some rest. You sound tired."

"I will." She disconnected the call. "Let's see what mind-numbing show I can find." Cycling through the channels, she settled on a channel showing House reruns, closing her eyes as an episode involving a musician who was on the verge of death was starting. Mikayla dozed off before finding out he had contracted measles.

She felt like she'd just drifted off when the phone started buzzing. Jumping as she tried to figure out who'd found out the number, then bringing her heart rate to normal when she saw it was Tim. "Hello?"

"I've lined up a safe house for you. No one's using it right now. You're welcome to it as long as you need it, or until we do." Tim gave her the address. "Where are you staying?" Mikayla gave him the name of the motel. "I know where that is." He gave her directions to the safe house and where to find the key. "Keep in touch, okay?"

"Will do. Hope I'm not getting you in trouble for this."

"Nah, my boss has a soft spot for people who need to sort things out. Ow! Sure thing, boss. He said to let me know if you need anything."

"Tell him thanks for me. He sounds like a stand-up guy."

"That's one way to describe him. Remember, call if you need anything."

"Bye, Tim." She ended the call. She'd paid cash for two nights but decided to go ahead and relocate to the safehouse on the off chance someone from the team found out where she was, then they'd be surprised to find she wasn't here. Loading everything into her backpack after changing back into jeans and a shirt, she slipped her leather jacket and bag on, wiped down all the surfaces to get rid of fingerprints, left the room key on the dresser, then disappeared to the safehouse.

Arriving at the safehouse, she quickly found the key buried in the hanging basket and unlocked the door. Mikayla took a quick tour of the cozy two-bedroom, two-bath house. She tossed the backpack onto one of the beds, then made her way to the kitchen. "Oh, good, it's stocked for a couple of weeks." She wasn't hungry after the Chinese food, so she availed herself of bottled water and changed clothes again, back into the tank top and shorts. Finding the place stocked with books, she took one off the shelf. "Little Women. I loved this book growing up." Making herself comfortable in a chair, she draped her legs over the arm of the chair and began reading until she fell asleep, the book slipping from her lap and dropping to the floor.

After waking up the following day, she said goodbye to the old Mikayla and hello to Madeline Wheeler, a grad student waiting to start an internship with the Smithsonian in the fall. "The wig isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I always did like Nat's hair color. Now it's mine." After checking her wallet to ensure every document had the correct name on it, she headed out, walking around the neighborhood, taking the train into the city, and being a tourist. She was hyper-vigilant, always looking around to make sure no one was tailing her. In her quiet moments at night, she'd wonder how Clint was doing, if he'd regained his memories. "He'll feel guilty, but it's not his fault I wasn't strong enough for him, no matter how many times he called me his kick-ass fiancée." It still hurt like hell, but she knew it was for the best. He could focus on recovering, and she could focus on moving on.

Two weeks later, she was still crying herself to sleep at night. "I'll always love him, but he deserves someone else who'll be a better fit for him. I'm still seeing him everywhere I go. That'll pass, eventually." She'd gotten a job at a small bookstore, reminding her of the one she and Clint discovered on her birthday, except without a cat. She didn't need the money, but it kept her from going stir crazy alone in the safehouse. Mikayla was getting used to being called Maddie by the owner, a grandmotherly type who always sent her home with a plate of cookies, a pie, or a big plate of leftovers. On one of her days off, she decided it was time to stop in and see Tim, to thank him for the place to stay. After making sure he was at work, she donned her backpack and jacket then rode to NCIS.

During those two weeks, Clint was doing his best not to spin out of control. The team had even contacted Fury to advise him of the situation. They felt they had to when Maria had called, asking to talk to Mikayla about the wedding. When Clint wasn't using his old school spy skills to look for her, he'd pull up her playlist on her phone, doing everything he could to keep her fresh on his mind. One day, when going through her closet to see if she'd hidden anything there, he found her wedding dress. "Damn it!" He sank to the floor in front of the closet and, making sure no one was around, started to cry. "I'll never find anyone who gets me like you do, babe. You've wormed your way into my heart and my life. Now you've ripped yourself away from me because of my stupid ass memory lapse. If I were a stronger person, this wouldn't have happened." Clint put his head in his hands and sobbed, wondering if he'd ever see his Sharky again.

"Barton, get your ass up off the floor. We've got a lead." Nat's voice came through the fog. Clint immediately jumped up and brushed off his jeans, refusing to wipe the moisture from his eyes. "Misty remembered the guy Mikayla dated after college."

"Where are we going?"

"Washington, D.C."

"Great, your favorite place. Will they let us into the city?"

By this time, the two had made it to the elevator and were waiting for it to arrive. "We're fine. It's been long enough, and this country has had enough other things to focus on since then." They got on the elevator and went to the main living area. "I've got a contact who used to work with him. He's expecting us."

"How is she?" Clint asked, unsure he wanted to know the answer but wouldn't feel better until he knew.

"She's fine, living in a safe house."

"I didn't think we had any left there?"

Natasha shook her head. "None of ours. He works for NCIS, and it's one of theirs."

"Does she seem happy?"

"He hasn't seen her, just talked to her on the phone. Told me when she first arrived, she said she needed to get her head on straight. He did say she sounds tired."

"Not gonna lie, Tash. I'm driving myself crazy worrying about her, afraid she's not taking care of herself, afraid she hasn't eaten and wondering how she's handling any panic attacks."

"Clint?" Natasha turned to face him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I've always said she's stronger than anyone knows. And what's your nickname for her?"

"I know, my kick-ass fiancée."

"Quinjet's ready," Steve interrupted them.

"We shall be eagerly awaiting your speedy return," Thor shouted as they boarded the jet.

"Think she'll come back?" Clint asked once they were in the air.

"She will. It may take some persuasion, but she will. She loves you too much not to." Clint was too nervous to reply, so he nodded, and they continued the flight in silence.

Back in Washington, D.C., Mikayla pulled into the NCIS parking lot, parking the bike, then going through the front entrance. "Yes, I'm here to see Special Agent Tim, uh, Timothy McGee, please."

"Name and ID, please."

"Maddie Wheeler," Mikayla replied, handing the person behind the desk her matching driver's license. Her information was recorded, then the clerk picked up the phone. After a brief conversation, Mikayla was given her ID back as the employee motioned her to move forward through the metal detector. Mikayla was glad she'd left her knives and guns on the bike. After passing through the detector unscathed, she walked to the elevator and punched the up button. On the ride up, Mikayla was preparing herself to face Tim again. It had been easy just talking to him on the phone, but she didn't know how much more pain her heart could take. She didn't know what to expect, so she repeated to herself to remain calm. When the elevator stopped, and the door opened, she was met by a man wearing a grey suit. He was taller than Clint, hair a little darker, and had a goatee and sparkling blue eyes. "Tim?"

"Maddie?" She nodded. He smiled and stuck out his hand while looking over his former girlfriend. Tim noticed the dark circles under her eyes and how obvious it was she'd recently lost weight. "It's good to see you. Come on. I'll give you the grand tour." Mikayla followed him over to his desk. "I just got off medical leave from a broken foot, so I'm holding down the fort while my teammates are out in the field. Have a seat." He motioned to the desk across from him. After she sat down, he asked her, "While you're here, did you want me to call you Maddie or Mikayla?"

"I'm getting used to Maddie, so let's stick with that."

"You got it. Let me finish typing up this report, and then I'll start the tour."

"You get used to the orange paint, I guess." Mikayla nodded. She leaned back in the chair and looked around. It had been a while since she'd worked anywhere but the tower and realized how used she'd become to the non-office atmosphere.

Tim chuckled. "You learn to ignore it after a while. No one's ever come up with an explanation why it looks like someone upchucked pumpkins on the wall." He stood up. "Ready?" She nodded, then stood up and followed him. He pointed out his teammates' desks and where the lab and morgue were, along with the director's office and various conference rooms. "It'll be a while before I can get away for lunch, so I thought you might be hungry. The cafeteria's closed for remodeling, so I'm afraid all we have are the nutritious vending machines. You're welcome to wait in here until we can go to lunch.

I'm looking forward to catching up."

"Me, too, Tim. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. Come and get me if you need anything." She nodded as he left the break room. On his way back, his phone rang. "McGee. Ziva, good to hear from you. How are Tony and Talia? Oh, sure, that'll be convenient. She's here now. OK, thanks. Tell the family I said hi." As soon as that call ended, his phone rang again. "McGee? Sure, send them up. I'm expecting them." Tim walked over to the elevator and waited.

"Stop tensing up, Nat."

"I hate government buildings. I can't bring in weapons."

"You mean, you can't bring in as many. I know you too well to know you've smuggled some in somehow."

Before Natasha could reply, the elevator doors slid open. They were greeted by a brown-haired man sporting a goatee, a suit without a tie, and a kind smile. "Agent Barton? Agent Romanoff? I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee. Ziva told me you were on your way." He shook their hands as they exited the elevator. "She probably didn't get a chance to tell you, but Mikayla's here."

"What?" Clint asked, surprised.

"Yeah. She decided to stop in and see me. It's the first time I've talked to her other than by phone the entire time she's been here."

"How is she?" Clint asked as they followed Tim.

"She looks tired and could probably stand to eat a few meals."

Clint nodded. "She's been recovering." He gave Tim a quick overview of what Mikayla had recently been through, all the while giving Tim the once-over, trying to see what she had seen in him. Nat elbowed him, her way of reminding him that was years ago they'd been involved. Clint was always amazed how much Natasha could talk to him with one seemingly innocuous action.

"That explains a lot. I would say after hearing that, she seems to be in remarkable shape." Tim stopped when they got to the break room.

Clint and Natasha looked and only saw one person, a female with blonde hair styled in a bob, sitting at a table drinking coffee from a paper cup. Tim's phone rang, and he excused himself to answer it. "You go, Nat," Clint whispered. "I'll stay back. I don't want to overwhelm her."

Natasha took a few steps into the break room. "Mikayla?" She didn't immediately respond. "Agent Fitzgerald."

Mikayla's head whirled around. "Nat?"

"Long time, no see."

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, hoping to bring you back home."

"I, I don't have a home anymore. I'm looking for a new one."

Natasha strode over to Mikayla's table, stopped, crossing her arms across her chest. "You do have a home. We'd love to have you back."

"Not after the way I treated him. I'm not good for him, not strong enough to handle that version of Clint. He needs someone else."

"He's cured, Mikayla. When they came up with the antidote, they didn't take the incident with Loki into consideration. He's had so many scans done on his brain you could wallpaper a room with the pictures. He's back, Mikayla, no relapses."

Mikayla violently shook her head. "I can't let myself believe it, Nat. The last time I did, well, here we are. He needs a stronger female, someone who didn't know him like I did, who didn't know the Clint I knew."

A soft voice came from the doorway. "Don't want anyone else. I want my kick-ass female." The two women looked toward Clint. Mikayla was scared to make a move, having already decided in her brain she'd never see him again, assuming he wouldn't want her after she'd deserted him. "Babe, please come home."

After hearing the pleading in his voice, Mikayla's reserve drained from her body. She flung the chair aside and flew into his arms, almost knocking him down. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Clint. Forgive me?" She punctuated each sentence with a kiss.

"If you fall, I will catch you. Hell, yes, I forgive you. Can you forgive me?"

"Wasn't your fault." She crashed her lips into his, and they hungrily kissed as though it was the last action either one of them would make. "Not your fault." Natasha stood back and grinned, knowing her two friends would eventually come to their senses.

"Ahem," a gruff male voice cleared his throat, interrupting the couple. "Barton? Heard a rumor some Army grunt was making an appearance at my workplace."

Clint looked past Mikayla toward the opposite doorway toward a grey-haired man with a weathered face. "Gunny? How are you, sir?" Clint's hand immediately saluted him.

"Looking a hell of a lot better than you." He returned the salute, then stuck out his hand to shake Clint's.

Clint turned to Mikayla. "My fiancée, Mikayla Fitzgerald. Mikayla, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the best damn sniper in all the armed services."

Mikayla shook his hand, noticing how his eyes sparkled. "Nice to meet you, but I didn't think anyone was better than Clint."

"Still the braggart, I see," Gibbs grinned slightly. "He could hold his own. Never did figure out why you didn't stay in, could've made a career of the service."

Clint ran a hand through his hair, keeping his other arm around Mikayla's waist. "Discovered the military wasn't for me, Gibbs. Did end up on the government payroll, though. Went to work for SHIELD."

Gibbs nodded. "Wondered if you were the Hawkeye, the one I'd heard so much about. Changed your weapon from a rifle to a bow."

"Yes, sir. People aren't expecting it."

"Smart thinking. Always knew you'd put that noggin to work." Gibbs slapped him on the back of the head, then turned his attention to Mikayla. "You've got a good man here, Mikayla."

"Yes, sir. I just needed to be reminded of it. I'm not going to forget it this time."

Clint squeezed Mikayla's waist. "Ready to come back home?" Mikayla nodded. "Gunny, always good to see you."

"You, too, Barton." Gibbs clasped his shoulder. "Not so long between visits next time, deal?"

"Deal, sir." Clint smiled, leading Mikayla and Natasha from the break room to the elevator.

"Hold on, be right back." Mikayla walked across the floor to Tim's desk. He stood up. "Tim? Thanks for everything. I hope I can repay you someday." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"You're welcome, Mikayla." He emphasized her name. "Always happy to help a friend." He waved to Clint and Natasha, who nodded back. Mikayla met Clint and Natasha at the elevator.

When they got to the ground floor and left the building, Clint turned to Mikayla. "First off, blonde? Trying to look like Misty?"

Mikayla chuckled. "It's an easy fix." She took off the wig. "Do you know how hard it is to find a color to cover up black hair?"

Clint kissed her cheek. "Good, I like the dark hair better. Did you need to pick up anything? Where were you staying?"

She gave them the address of the safehouse, tossing the cycle keys to Clint. "Nat, want to follow us over there?" Natasha agreed.

Once at the safehouse, Mikayla unlocked the door, and they followed her inside. "Let me gather up some things, get rid of some other things." She went off to the bedroom to stash items in the backpack. "Hey, Clint?" She shouted.

"Yeah?"

"Should I keep the burner phone and tablet?"

"Damn, she's good," Clint muttered to Natasha. "Sure. We can use them for the next undercover op. Speaking of being undercover, what's your alias?"

"Maddie Wheeler." Mikayla had returned to the living room wearing her jacket and the backpack, giving the duo Maddie's background.

"I have a feeling I know the answer, but I'm asking anyway. How did you go off the grid?"

"I raided your stash of ID's and passports, adapting them to me. Also, knowing I wouldn't be able to use credit cards, I sewed money into the lining of my jacket. I ended up getting bored and took a part-time job at a bookstore."

Clint kissed her. "I have never been prouder of anyone in my life. You learned well, my young padawan."

Mikayla beamed. "I was paying attention to the training. Hold that thought." She pulled out her burner phone and called the bookstore, changing her accent to a Boston accent. "Glenda? It's Maddie. I hate to do this to you, but something's come up, and I'm giving my immediate notice…no, I'm fine…thanks for everything…just donate it to the animal shelter. Thanks, you, too." She ended the call.

"You've been holding out on me, Fitzgerald. Love the accent." Clint pulled her close and whispered, "This could come in handy during private times." He nibbled her earlobe.

"Barton, keep it in your pants," Natasha quipped. "We've still got to get back." She pulled out her phone and sent a text of 'mission accomplished.'

"And we probably need to talk about things," Mikayla reminded him. "So, talk first, roleplay later."

"I can live with that," Clint smirked. Natasha took the car back to the airport, using the Quinjet to return to base. "Let's go to my apartment before the tower. It'll be easier to talk there."

"Sounds like a plan, RH." The couple mounted the bike, donned helmets, and headed back home.