Chapter 18

[Emily's POV]

My scream pierced the night air, and I laid under my blanket, shivering. I reached forward and grasped onto my Rudolph stuffie and squeezed tightly, whimpering. My bedroom door creaked open and I yanked the covers over my head, trembling. A baritone chuckle entered the room, and I instantly relaxed. It was just Dad.

"Emily, mitt barn, whatever is the matter?" he asked, sitting at the foot of my bed. I pulled the covers off and could barely make out his shape.

"I-I don't want you to leave tomorrow," I gulped, rubbing my eyes wearily. "So what if you miss that convention? Nobody would notice! You could just stay here and we could have ice cream like we always do." My dad chuckled and leaned forward, gently petting my head.

"Min ørn, you know I have to go. Remember what I told you," he said. "Bekymringer gått, glede nå. Concerns gone, joy now. Emily, I know you can be strong without me. Just three weeks. I'll call you every night, and if you and your mother want, you can come and visit anytime you please."

"Really?" I gasped. He nodded. "But you're going to miss my birthday..."

Recognition dawned on my father's face, and he leapt up, strolling out of the room. A minute later, he returned, with a giant present in his hands.

"I meant to give you this tomorrow morning, but I think you would prefer it now," he told me softly. He helped me tear it apart and once it was done, I gasped as I pulled out a beautiful kitten quilt. "I know you are more like an eagle, but kittens are good too."

"Who thought Luke Salgado would like kittens?" I chuckled, and my father scuffed up my hair.

"Don't tell anyone at work. I have a reputation to uphold," he teased me, wagging his finger at me.

"I won't," I promised. "I love you, Daddy."

"And I love you, mitt barn."

:/:\:

I woke up with a scream and panted, rubbing my eyes. My dad...I hadn't had a dream about my dad in two years. I felt a deep ache in my chest and I couldn't stop the waterworks from making an appearance. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face, trying to quiet my sobs. There was a frantic knocking on my door, but I ignored it, focusing on my breaths.

You are alright, Emily, I said quietly to myself, repeating the mantra over and over.

I felt a light touch on my shoulder and lifted my head slightly. Clint stood there, looking worried.

"Emily, is everything...?" he began, but I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his chest. I sobbed and he just stood there, gently rubbing my back soothingly. After a few minutes, I got a hold of myself and sat back down. He followed suit and brushed the hair out of my face. "Emily..."

"I just had a dream about my dad," I whispered, wiping away any unsung tears. "It was the night before he died. He gave me this quilt," I gestured towards the blanket that was spread across my bed, "and he used to speak to me in Norwegian whenever I got scared."

"Would it help if you talked about what your dad was like?" Clint suggested. I chewed on my lower lip, and nodded.

"His name was Luke Salgado," I began, sniffing. "He was one of the most handsomest man I've ever met. He had this really luscious black hair. I have no idea what hair product he used to make it so silky. He was really tall, like Thor-tall. He was from Norway, and so he used to speak to me in Norwegian, calling me 'mitt barn' and 'min ørn', which means my child and my eagle, respectively." I glanced behind me and willed for my wings to appear. They fluttered once the light hit them and I sighed. "Maybe he knew I would get these."

"He sounds like a wonderful man," Clint replied softly. I reached forward and gave his hand a squeeze.

"You two would have loved to meet each other," I told him. "I used to watch him practice knife-throwing in our backyard. Once, he taught me how to do it. Got bulls-eye the first try."

"Atta girl," Clint smirked, and I rolled my eyes.

"When he..." I gulped. "He died...I felt like a part of myself disappeared. My mother..." I couldn't continue. I looked away and Clint shifted on the bed, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"I read your file," he whispered. "I know what your mother was like. I used to have an older brother named Barney. We...we didn't have the best life. But you want to know why I survived? Because I made the most of it. I lost my parents. But I stood tall and knew that they wouldn't have wanted me to wallow in my sorrow. They would've wanted me to stride towards all these different goals."

"D-Did Clint Barton just make a s-speech?" I sniffled, coughing. Clint rolled his eyes and playfully shoved me.

"Go back to sleep."

:/:\:

[Clint's POV]

I gently shut the door to Emily's room before immediately picking up my phone and dialing one number.

"Barton, report," a low, gravelly voice whispered.

"Fury, you better know for sure of what you are doing," I lowly growled as I stomped my way back towards my room. "I am not putting up with this any longer. I will say this one more time, Emily Salgado is not a threat."

"Agent Barton, you have barely known this girl for four months," Fury replied and I could hear the eye roll. "She is your mission. Your job is to make sure she doesn't go AWOL."

"Oh yeah, and what if I say that you're full of..." I began, but trailed off when I spotted Natasha standing in the doorway. "For the last time, she isn't a threat. Goodnight." I hung up and growled before promptly chucking my phone at the wall.

"What's with the tech destruction?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. I folded my arms and plopped onto my bed.

"Level 7 Access," I moaned, and Natasha looked even more confused.

"There hasn't been Level 7 Access in what...couple of years?" she said, walking over to my bedside. "What's Fury up to now?"

"He's positively convinced that Emily is a threat," I spat, and Natasha nodded.

"You know she is, Clint. Her abilities are unlike anything we've ever seen," Natasha told him gently. I sat up and glared.

"She's just a kid!" I argued.

"She's eighteen."

"Still a youngster! What were you doing when you were eighteen?"

"I believe I was trailing a Russian mobster who threatened to tell the world about the Red Room and so I was hired to kill him."

I sat there silently, unable to come up with a good comeback. "Whatever, Nat. She's a child. The only reason I'm doing this is because I owe Fury. A lot."

"Clint, you just have to keep doing what you're doing," Natasha told me softly. "Watch out for her. Be the father-figure she lost. To her, just be you."

A/N: Hey everybody! Here's another chapter!

So, I'm putting out a little challenge (or plead): I am looking for some fan art to use as the cover of my story. If anybody who's good at that sort of thing creates one, please PM it to me. I would love to see some of your creative juices flowing!

Basically, it has to have Bucky and Emily on the front cover. If you find someone who matches the description of Emily from the story, use it :)

Can't wait to see what y'all send me. Don't be surprised if I don't respond to your guys' messages. I personally don't talk with people I don't know, so yah... :)

Also, even though I have the poll out, I decided to add in a little memory of Emily's.

Please leave a comment, question, concern or conspiracy theory about anything you want to let me know!