Chapter Eleven - Web of Our Own Making
An idle mind can wander a lot of places—good, bad, sometimes unexpected. Between visual sweeps of their group and the skyline, Hawkeye's gaze kept drifting back to Phillip. The teen's confession and accusations played over in his mind.
It would be naive and disrespectful not to consider the future that they were all working to counter when those events had taken such a toll on his son. Yet, dwelling on the prospect of failure, and his and Natasha's deaths, Clint found himself feeling obstinate, protective and somewhat uncertain on how to proceed.
Almost two hours into their return trip from the far reaches of Asgard to the capital, Hogun asked in a guarded tone, "Does the boy disappoint you?"
Clint turned, straddling the bench to get a better look at the helmsman. The question had caught him off guard because it seemed to come out of nowhere after the long silence.
"What? No. No, he doesn't."
"You frown every time you look at him," Hogun stated.
"I'm just thinking," Clint was quick to offer in defense, even if it felt like a half-truth. "He said we orphaned him. How am I supposed to react to that?"
"Just accept it."
Clint looked away, scanning the forest below. "I don't know if I can."
"You see deeper than what is on the surface," Hogun said, "beyond the immediate and into the possible. This talent is what sets you apart from other warriors. Now you blind yourself with this knowledge you cannot accept, much as Odin blinded you from your gift of providence."
It was hard to determine if Clint's rising irritation came from real offense or confusion. What exactly was the guy trying to say? Blinded with knowledge? Blinded from his gift? Geez, the two were completely different situations.
"Hey, I'm not good at riddles," Clint began, then he quieted, sensing something.
Both of them looked off past the bow of their skiff, catching sight of a small dot in the distance.
"Volstagg! Narvi!" Hogun called out in warning.
The second skiff angled closer so the men could confer over the discovery.
Volstagg asked, "Is that a vessel?"
"It's not an animal," Narvi, their beastmaster, confirmed.
"Would be awfully big if it was," Clint commented, "and fast. That thing's really movin'."
Clint wished for a simple pair of binoculars, but there hadn't been time to fully gear up before leaving Avenger Headquarters. He stooped to pick up Phillip's helmet. With a quick glance over the array of buttons built into the design, Clint activated and pulled the piece on. Luckily, the interface proved intuitive. He zoomed the optics in on their approaching anomaly, letting out a soft chuckle of curious relief at what he saw.
"Hey, whoever they are, they've got my jet."
The Streak diverted course to their left. Hawkeye assumed the pilot planned a wide turn, but wasn't sure if it was to get in front or behind them. Then the boarding ramp lowered and a winged figure shot out of the ship, heading in their direction.
"Now that looks like a bird," Volstagg asserted, still straining to make out details.
"Ah," Clint said, pulling off the helmet, "time for you guys to meet a new friend."
Hawkeye indicated the others should shift back or crouch to make room.
Sam circled in a glide, slowing his momentum before coming in for an abrupt landing upon a free bench at the bow of Clint and Hogan's skiff at the feet of the unconscious teens. He gave the scene a quick once-over as his mechanical wings retracted.
"Good morning— " He checked his watch with an uncertain grin. "—barely."
"Everyone," Clint began, "this is Sam Wilson. In the field, we call him Falcon." Then he rattled off all their names for Sam as well.
Volstagg straightened when introduced, squaring his shoulders to emphasize his immensity. Hogan and Narvi nodded in greeting. Naya kept low and silent, though she peeked over the sleeping Fenrir to inspect the new arrival.
Sam gestured to Sigga's bloody splint, "I don't think a mid-air hand off is a good idea." He activated his communicator. "Cap, we have injured and animals. Better set her down and we'll meet up."
Steve kept a wide berth, coming around their other side then began a descent in search of enough open space for a makeshift landing strip.
"What's up?" Clint asked his fellow Avenger.
"Hey, I could be here out of the goodness of my heart," Sam stated, being playful yet feigning offense.
Clint was skeptical. "You borrowed my ship and brought it to Asgard. That's not nothing. Fess up."
The man's mouth pursed in response, showing regret at the attempted deception. "I didn't want to say so in front of the group, but agents of the Nine Realms Task Force showed up on our doorstep. They took Natasha to Asgard for questioning."
"Questioning for what?"
"They wouldn't go into much detail with us, but Steve overheard a mention of an assassination attempt."
An angered panic rose up in Clint's chest. He'd like to say that Natasha couldn't be involved, but with her particular skill set and connections, it would be unwise to rule out anything without more information. She could have taken a job and not told him about it.
Sam frowned. "As soon as they'd taken her, we received a message from Heimdall that you were having difficulties out here. So, we skipped the ship through the bifrost and set out to track you all down."
Far ahead, the Streak dipped below the tree line, committing to a landing that would likely be tricky surrounded in dense forest. Only as they neared did Clint see the large meadow that his group had no doubt portaled past on their way to the paddock.
Sam took to the air again, beating their skiffs to the ground by a few minutes.
Clint hopped out as they touched down, collecting his bow and quiver as a young voice called out from the adjacent Streak.
"Daddy!"
His three-year-old son, Harry, ran down the ramp and into the tall grass, almost losing his footing in his rush. He wore the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform they had made for him, a clue that the boy considered himself to be currently on a mission.
"Hey! I didn't know you were here." Clint snatched him up for a generous squeeze.
"Untle Steve and Untle Sam let me fly wiff-em to save you."
Hawkeye smiled, feeling grateful to the guys for keeping an eye on Harry.
"Super cool."
Captain America exited the ship to greet the group and look over the situation. He pulled Clint aside.
"Sam tell you about Nat?"
"Yeah." He slouched, feeling extra weary in that moment. "What the hell, Cap? She wasn't on special assignment, right?"
"No. Not from us or Fury. I checked."
"Okay. Good."
After some brief debate, Hogan and Volstagg opted to remain with the skiffs and make the long return to Asgard. They'd requisitioned the transports, after all, and it could raise unwanted questions if they didn't bring them back.
The others loaded into the jet. Meant for transporting small strike teams, the Streak had two rows of five seats which faced inward. They buckled Sigga and Phillip into two of the seats, leaving the limited space at the ramp for Fenrir, who they strapped to a backboard.
"Daddy, who's dat?" Harry asked.
He pointed toward Phillip two seats down from them, closer to Fenrir and Naya than the boy would like being afraid of large dogs.
"Uuuuh…"
Oh crap! What do I say?
Clint had seen and done a lot in his years of service to warrant compartmentalizing. Back in the good-old-days, before Cami joined and quit the agency, before he married Natasha and they had Harry, he hadn't felt a need to finetune that skill. But with family, a soldier had to separate the battlefield and home life.
Who was he kidding? Clint still had a lot to learn on that front, and now he had two sons' needs to keep in mind. That thought, mixed with all the stress and unknowns of their situation, made him yearn all the more for Natasha's presence.
"That's Phillip."
The boy's features brightened. "Hey, I'm Phillip! Harold Phillip Barton."
"Yep." Clint mussed Harry's hair, which was too short to really move much. "He's going to be around for a bit, and it's important that we treat him nice. Okay?"
"Otay."
Steve poked his head out of the cockpit. "I assume you'd prefer to fly this thing out of here."
"Uh, yeah." Clint pushed to his feet, but didn't get far before Harry grabbed for his hand.
"Tan I ride wiff you?" he asked, casting a leery gaze back at the wolves.
"Sure, kiddo." Clint released the boy's restraints, and they moved forward together.
Steve got Harry strapped into the co-pilot seat while Clint settled into his own. He mentioned needing to keep an eye on their passengers, then winked at Harry before stepping out again.
Something in the look the two exchanged led Clint to suspect that Harry's request had more to it than wanting to be away from Fenrir and Naya. He decided he'd better ask a few questions as they got underway.
"You didn't want to visit with Narvi?"
"No."
"Your mom says you like Narvi and Sigga."
"I do."
"But…?"
The boy shrugged, his gaze wandering everywhere that wasn't at his father.
Clint powered up the engines, rolling the vessel forward through the grass while making mental calculations. They'd need to turn around to have enough space to take off, which wasn't easy on uneven terrain. Thank god the ship had been outfitted with decent sensor and mapping systems.
"Were you missing me?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted.
"Well, that's okay. I missed you too." Clint flashed the kid a smile, pulled on his headset then activated the cabin speakers to report, "Hold tight, everyone. We're gonna come around then things are gonna get really bumpy for a bit."
Takeoff proved to be an unnerving bitch-of-a-ride by the time they were airborne and gaining altitude. Any lesser jet wouldn't have managed to gain enough speed or lift with the number of course corrections and mini-hops he'd had to make to cross the overgrown meadow.
He cast a look over at the pale-faced Harry. "You okay, kiddo?"
Harry nodded, yet didn't release his grip on the harness straps. A conversation would be easier if the kid had a headset on too, but Clint thought it best to keep his attention on the unfamiliar airspace. They fell into a comfortable silence.
Heimdall came through on the old Mischief Makers' frequency about a half-hour later, warning Clint that the Realms Assembly was aware of their approach and had dispatched agents from the task force to meet up with them.
"The king has yet to return," the gatekeeper further informed him. "Do not be surprised if you're arrested."
"Oh great," Hawkeye said with a low grumble.
The escorts arrived within minutes, just as the capital appeared on the horizon. Clint recognized their S.T.A.V.-like design. The ships were compact like their ground-bound predecessors only with retractable wings and a little sleeker appearance. He kinda hoped that he would get a chance to take one for a spin.
"Unidentified vessel," came a deep, gruff voice through the line, "by order of Chancellor Ogalfus, you will follow us to the headquarters of the Nine Realms Task Force. If you fail to comply, you will be shot down."
Again Cap poked his head through the doorway. He wore an anxious frown along with a headset.
"He sounds cheery," Clint commented, having yet to broadcast their microphones beyond their private connection.
Steve leaned past Harry to the controls to make the switchover himself. "Acknowledged," he answered. "Be advised that we have wounded on board, including children and animals."
"Do as you're told then," was the less-than-friendly reply before the line went silent.
Steve glanced at Clint. "Maybe I should've mentioned we're friends with the king."
The Streak didn't have the precise landing capabilities that their escorts did. Only after a few circling passes over the city was Hawkeye able to slow enough to land. Even then, without an actual runway, they tore up quite a path of grass within the palace grounds.
Daniel Kotter stood with a handful of uniformed agents as the ship taxied into the task force's hangar. He kept his people back, allowing Clint, Steve, Sam and Narvi to come out on their own to meet them.
"Hey Dan," Clint called out as he descended the ramp, trying to sound like he hadn't seen his friend in months rather than hours.
Kotter acknowledged the greeting with a nod, but didn't smile. He eyed the four of them before turning to the few men in his group.
"Gentlemen, let me introduce you to living legends from my home realm of Midgard." He pointed them out as he spoke their names. "Captain America - Steven Rogers, Falcon - Sam Wilson… and one of the original Mischief Makers who made our task force possible, Hawkeye - Clint Barton."
Despite the rigidity of their postures, the group did appear at least mildly impressed.
"We didn't expect the escort," Steve mentioned. "Or, for your agent to threaten to fire on us."
Kotter looked toward a broad, copper-haired Dwarf with a long, braided beard standing a few steps to his right. "Ohl takes orders very seriously."
"Your orders?" Clint asked in hopes of clarifying the point.
"Not this time," Dan admitted, unable to hide a hint of annoyance that tweaked his features. "The Chancellor of the Realms Assembly has ordered that you be detained for questioning."
"On what grounds?" Steve challenged, taking a step forward.
"Your ship made an unscheduled jump through the bifrost, flying dangerously low over the city and almost hit the assembly hall. You didn't declare yourselves or your business before blasting off for the far reaches of the realm."
Clint took the chance to step down beside Steve. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said mainly to Kotter, who had to be hating his dual-role in this fiasco. "It's a long story, but believe me, no one meant any harm."
"My daughter—and others—were wounded while on a mission for King Thor," Narvi declared with strained civility. His green eyes narrowed, giving them a piercing quality that further reminded Clint of Loki. "The Avengers came to our rescue. Now you hinder us from seeking needed medical attention."
"Commander!" one of the Asgardians exclaimed, sounding panicked as he grabbed for his sidearm and pointed it up the boarding ramp at the black partly-hidden lump of fur, "That's Fenrir the Night Stalker! He is one of the banished offspring of the war criminal Loki."
"Whoa! Whoa!" the Avengers cried out as more guns were drawn on them. They shifted closer to each other to provide the unconscious animal additional cover.
"Put down your weapons!" Kotter ordered his men. The former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent looked furious and shaken all at once.
"Damn right you will!" came the sudden commanding voice of the Queen of Asgard. Jane Foster charged into the large space with Lady Sif and a dozen royal guards on her heels. "You dare to try to arrest my husband's nephew and guests?"
The nonplussed Daniel greeted her with respect, even bowing before explaining his orders.
Jane glared at him. "Ogalfus might rule the Realms Assembly, Commander Kotter, but he does not rule Asgard. I suggest you remind him of that fact before I am forced to."
"Of course, your majesty."
Three large skiffs slipped into the hangar. They were empty except for the pilots.
"Take them to Lord Fandral," Jane ordered her men. "He will make sure they get anything they need." Then the petite woman departed, taking two guards with her, but leaving Sif to supervise.
While the others worked to load up Fenrir and the teens, Clint returned to the cockpit where Harry was still strapped into the co-pilot seat. The boy looked scared, but relief pinked his cheeks when he noticed his father.
"Time to go," Clint said, helping with the harness.
"I want Mommy."
"Me too. Let's go find her."
They grabbed their gear from the passenger compartment then strolled down the ramp to join the adults gathered there. Kotter had called off his guys. Sif sent the guards to wait at the transports. The rest of them drew in for a quick huddle.
"Sam and I have got to get back to Earth," Captain Rogers said, meaning he had delayed something important to make this trip.
Clint nodded with appreciation to both men. "Thanks for the assist."
"You're welcome. Good luck. Keep us apprised," Steve requested.
Harry rushed to give the honorary uncles each a hug before they headed out on foot.
"Phillip is hurt," Hawkeye told Dan and Sif, "but I also need to see my wife." He'd managed to keep his tone neutral, though his emotions weren't so steady.
"She's in interrogation with Esmi and Aprizette," Kotter reported.
Narvi addressed Clint. "I will stay with Fenrir and the children while the healers tend to them. Give Natasha my best, will you?"
"Yeah. Thanks Narvi."
"My pleasure," said the hide-clad man. He jogged toward the last skiff, which took off as soon as he jumped in.
"Can we talk?" Hawkeye asked, wondering about any unknown surveillance equipment around the tech-heavy hangar.
"Sure. Let's catch up," Dan said, his look suggesting that he had important information to share. He gestured for them to follow, then activated his communicator as soon as they moved into an adjoining corridor for more privacy. "Esmi, finish up your interview and bring Natasha to my office."
Within a few minutes of reaching the office, Esmi and Natasha joined them. The collective took seats around the table with Harry climbing into Natasha's lap and Clint holding her hand for mutual reassurance while they got the rundown on the assassination attempt against Loki's eldest son and the discovery of a S.H.I.E.L.D. dagger as the weapon.
Natasha said, "Harry and I were in Asgard to see Cami and Edie." She leaned into Clint. "We've never even been to Vanaheim."
Dan nodded, exchanging a strained look with Esmi. "There's a chance the knife belonged to Mike Hopper. We're waiting on the final inventory of his gear."
Sif sighed, yet didn't avoid the sympathetic gazes that shifted to her. "Then Mike's killer could have taken it and also attacked the justicer."
"Possibly," Dan agreed. "I'd like to send the dagger to Earth for a D.N.A. analysis, but I'm sure Ogalfus will argue that is a conflict of interest considering the suspicion against Natasha. And—the analysis might not work anyway with the number of people who've already come into contact with the dagger."
"Unintentional evidence tampering?" Clint quipped, all too aware that Mike and Dan had been fighting the assembly to adopt stricter methods since founding the task force.
"Change is pretty slow around here. Most of these folks have centuries upon centuries to waste on ceremony and indecision. They really don't like being told what to do by us youngins."
Natasha jerked her head toward the door and the general direction of the hangar. "They didn't mind taking our tech for their own use."
"True." Kotter slumped in his seat, his hands lifting to rub at his face. "I can't have this investigation stall too. I owe it to Mike and Loki to find the leads and get past the roadblocks."
"You need help," Clint stated with an implied offer. "We might be looking at an inside job."
"We know," Esmi let slip.
"I can trust most of my people," Dan admitted, "but I didn't choose any of them. All were appointed by their governments to serve on the task force. I can't even suspend agents from active duty without convening a tribunal first."
Natasha inquired, "Does that mean your position is secure too?"
"Nah, Ogalfus can remove me anytime he wants to."
"Well, fuck."
Harry looked up at her. "You said a bad word—lite Untle Tony."
"Yeah, like Tony." She kissed the boy's temple. "Sorry."
"Tan we go home now, Mommy?"
"No baby. I don't think we can. Dan needs our help."
"Otay. I will help too."
Dan stood from the table, reaching over it to exchange a high-five with Harry. "Thanks, little man. You Bartons are really badass."
Harry smiled, but that didn't stop him from pointing an accusing finger at Kotter and declaring, "Bad word!"