Chapter 24: Schrodinger's Landscape

For the next few minutes we sat there, poring silently over the twisted, nightmarish image. This was their 'why', I was sure of it, by why had Vi given it to us, and why now? Despite her playful, even happy-go-lucky nature she rarely did anything without a reason, even if that reason only made sense to the inhabitants of Planet Vi. Was this a threat? Or a sick punchline to some ridiculously overwrought joke? I really didn't think so. Fine, okay, she was a trickster to the core, but she wasn't malicious, at least not without good reason, and her threats were chilling because they were direct, matter-of-fact, and delivered in person. She wouldn't have wasted her time having us chase breadcrumbs when she could just kick in the front door and threaten us with condensed sunlight. Unfortunately, the options that remained weren't particularly happy ones...

From his expression Clint seemed to agree. Gone was the casual, laid-back man who slouched around the house wearing string vests and a roguish smile. His gaze was intent, as intent as I'd ever seen, and though his lips were pressed tightly together I could still see them working furiously as his eyes darted across the paper, looking for clues.

"Okay," he said eventually, "I gotta admit, I don't know Vi as well as you reckon you do, but...you're right. I don't think they'd have thrown this our way without a good reason."

"So you agree, then? You think it's a warning?"

"Now I've got my head back on straight, I can't see what else it could be," he said, "Although I still don't get why they'd go to all this trouble when they could just write us a note or somethin'."

"If they could've, they would've," I said confidently, "Remember Vi called you the 'Comic Relief Avenger'? She's not one to mince words."

"You know, in hindsight it's actually kinda funny," Clint snorted, "An' at least she remembered my callsign. So-"

"-so they couldn't tell us what was going on, but if she happened to leave her bag in our car and we happened to snoop, then how is that their fault?"

"Okay, but why now? She's had this drawin' lyin' around since we've known 'em!"

"You said that they always seemed to have contingencies in place," I said, "Maybe this is one of those."

"Christ, I hope not," he said, and exhaled heavily, "But I reckon there's more to this than that. I mean...look at this SUV. Does it seem familiar to you?"

He pointed to one of the large black vehicles, and I peered closer. While I wasn't an expert on cars by any means, I had to admit it looked kind of familiar. At the very least, it was recognisable as a car.

"What about it?"

"It's the same model that Keame's mercs were usin' earlier today."

"You sure?"

"Dead sure. An' those-" he pointed to the strange firearms, "-are Chitauri Blasters. That's a pretty neat trick, considerin' that you said they ain't never heard of the Chitauri before!"

"Um…well..." I had to admit that was a bit hard to explain, but I gave it my best shot, "...coincidence?"

"An' how much of what's happened recently been coincidence, hon?"

"Yeah, I know..." I ran my fingers through my hair "So where does that leave us?"

"Nowhere good," he said, "But there's more to this than a simple warnin'. I'm sure of it. They ain't just shoutin' 'Danger, Will Robinson!'; they're tryin' to be specific."

"You really think so?" I said, and sighed, "I kind of liked the 'they can see the future' angle. At least it was simple."

"Don't you think it's a bit amateurish to jump at the magical answer? Last time I checked, we ain't amateurs."

"Sure, but neither are they, and we know that they're...y'know…"

"Wizards?" he said, and I shrugged, "Well, Strange is a wizard an' even he needed the Time Stone to see what was comin' down the track. Unless you reckon there's a spare one floatin' around out there, an' everyone's pretty clear there isn't, then there's gotta be another explanation."

"Uh-huh," I said, and watched as a self-satisfied grin spread across his face, "If we were playing poker, that smile'd be the smile of someone about to lay down a royal flush. Out with it."

"Well...I don't reckon it's a royal flush. Maybe a high straight," he said, "But...doesn't this picture look weird to you?"

I nodded. There was something undeniably odd about the drawing, but for the life of me I couldn't work out what it was. Even as I stared, the delicately rendered pencil lines seemed to swim and twist on the paper, almost mocking my pathetic efforts to discern exactly what was wrong with the image.

"Ain't seen it yet? I'll tell you," he said, "This ain't our farmstead."

"I…what?" I blinked, "What're you talking about? That's definitely our farmstead!"

"Is it? 'Cause I'll admit I haven't been downstairs in the last five minutes, but last time I checked it wasn't made of whitewashed, reinforced concrete."

He was right. I knew he was right, even before I looked again. Even so, part of me was still surprised at the sight of the white stone blocks, shattered by heat and blackened by soot, with deeply-embedded twisted steel rods reaching skyward like long, silvery fingers, "I knew there was something wrong about the building! I knew it, but-"

"You were too shocked to figure out what it was? Yeah, me too."

"That's so weird," I breathed, "It looks like our home, but it also looks…well..."
"Feels kinda Mediterranian to me," Clint said, confidently, "They use rebar for earthquake proofin', too."

"Well, you're the globe-trotting superspy. I bow to your superior knowledge."

"Hey, I ain't sayin' I'm right," he said quickly, "But you gotta admit that does kinda explain the olive trees. You ever seen an olive tree in Missouri?"

"I don't think I've seen an olive tree in my life."

"Exactly; the winter'd freeze 'em solid! So why're they outside our house? Also-" he tapped the burning SUV, "-why're they tryin' to bundle this family into a car that's on fire? Why is the car even on fire? It doesn't make sense!"

"There's a lot about this that doesn't make sense, hon," I agreed. Now I'd gotten over my initial shock I could see that this really wasn't our farmstead. The white walls, the olive groves... if it wasn't for the flames, assault, and wholesale destruction, I could almost believe I was looking at a holiday brochure, "Like... if this isn't our home, then why did we-"

"-think it was?" Clint finished for me, "I'm guessin' you ain't seen the really clever bit, then."

"You just want me to call you 'Hawkeye' again, don't you."

"Couldn't hurt."

"Fine!" I rolled my eyes, "I am in awe of your observational abilities, Hawkeye. Now spit it out!"

"Ain't no spittin' required," he said, "Just… take a deep breath an' unfocus your eyes slightly. Like one of those Magic Eye pictures."

"I've never been any good at those…" I said, but did my best to relax. Before my eyes, the drawing danced and blurred, and then somehow...shifted. The twisted lengths of steel rebar faded into the jagged edges of charred, crooked timbers, poking through the collapsed porch roof, while the gnarled trees in the olive grove seemed to flow together to form the dented walls and shattered windows of our barn. Not a line or wisp of smoke was out of place; but now instead of a beautiful villa it was undeniably our farmstead, burning to the ground.

"My God," I said, and felt my blood run cold in my veins, "It's…"

"It's kinda like the Fedex arrow, if you think about it," Clint said grimly, "You said she was good."

"Not this good!" I said, and watched as the picture flowed effortlessly between the two disturbing landscapes, "I had no idea she could do something like this..."

"An' it still don't really explain why," he said, "I mean…it's pretty clear what it's showin', but it don't make sense."

"I bet it makes sense to Vi," I said, "If I could just get inside her head…"

"Good luck with that, hon," he snorted, "'Cause like Maisie said, I don't reckon she's entirely in the room."

"Liv said something very similar," I said, "For what it's worth, I think you're all wrong."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Vi is entirely wherever she is, it's just…that's not always where everyone else is."

"You know you're basically sayin' she's mad, right?"

"No, I'm not! She's just a bit tangled up, y'know, inside," I said, "Can you really blame her?"

"I ain't blamin' anyone, hon," he said placatingly, "But how're you goin' to get inside the head of someone who...hon? You okay?"

"Tangled...tangled…" I murmured to myself, "Yeah. That's a good word. These pictures are entangled; they're connected, Clint, I'm sure of it. It's like that experiment with the cat where it's both alive and dead at the same time!"

"I remember Banner talkin' about that," he said, "All I could think was that it's a brave man who lets that cat out again. So...you reckon that family is-"

"Yeah, it's us," I nodded grimly, "Or at least me and the kids. But at the same time it's a completely different family, from another time. Somehow, the two've gotten-"

"-tangled up?"

"Yeah. She's not seeing the future, she's seeing the past!" I paused, and smiled weakly, "Um, that sounded better in my head."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," he said, "And this other picture is of somethin' that actually happened?"

"It's got to be," I said, "I'd go further than to say it just 'happened'; I think she saw the whole thing and couldn't do anything to stop it. All that anger, that helplessness...it was almost overwhelming. You can't imagine what it was like."

"I 'can't imagine what it was like'? Really?" the air crackled angrily, and with a sick jolt I realised exactly what I'd just said, "Hon, I know exactly what it was like!"

"Clint, I-" I began, but he was clearly in no mood to be interrupted.

"You remember when Fury came an' asked me to join the Avengers? Big pay rise, workin' with the best people an' the best tech?"

I nodded, mutely.

"He never mentioned any of that at the time, 'cause he knew I didn't care. He knew that all he had to say was that it would keep you an' our kids safe and I'd be in. Stark's gear gettin' loose? Aliens swarmin' through wormholes? Didn't care; I'd take 'em all on, took 'em all on, in fact, 'cause that's what I needed to do."

"I know," I said softly, "But-"

"I used to tell myself that no matter what, I'd protect you," he went on, in a thick voice, "'Course, that ain't what actually happened. What happened is one day you guys all just vanished and there was nothin' I could do about it. Nothing!" his voice dropped, and when he spoke next it was almost a whisper, "So...yeah, I reckon I know how she felt."

He fell silent and stared blankly out the window, tears brimming in his eyes. I wrestled internally, desperately looking for the right combination of comforting words even as I mentally berated myself for being so unthinkingly cruel. Eventually, I was forced to settle for a gentle, comforting arm across his shoulders. He tensed at my touch, but at least he didn't draw away.

"Clint, I'm…"

"Don't say it," he said, quietly but forcefully, "Don't say you're 'sorry'. Ain't none of this is your fault."

"Okay. What I was going to say is 'I, Laura Barton, can sometimes be a bit of an insensitive jerk', but because I'd accidentally wedged my foot in my mouth you might have heard it as 'You can't imagine it was like'. It's hard to talk around the laces."

A small smile surfaced, "Sure, but how'd you manage to wedge both of 'em in there?"

"Practice. Lots of it," I said wryly, and then softened my tone, "Was that... really what it was like for you? All that pain, and anger, and just...feeling helpless?"

"Yeah. I reckon it was the fact I couldn't do anythin' that was the worst bit. You were all dead, an' part of me kept on sayin' that I just done somethin', then…" he looked up and exhaled, "I think maybe that's what drove me to do what I did. I was so used to bein' an Avenger an makin' a difference, that when I couldn't it just kinda broke me."

"It'd break anyone. Remember what Strange said about 'Avenger Laura'?"

"I know, but...I'm not meant to break."

"Vi said the same thing, and she broke," I said, "You lost your whole family in an instant; it'd almost be worse if it didn't break you."

Clint wiped at his eyes and nodded, "I get it, an' I'm sorry. Again. I'm tryin' to be methodical about this, but this picture…"

"Don't be sorry, hon," I said, "And if I'm not saying the right things or doing the right things then, y'know, tell me. I'm a big girl; I can take it!"

"Don't you remember what Thera said, hon? There ain't no magic words or things to do beyond just bein' you. You could be singin' the openin' song to H.M.S. Pinafore an' it'd be enough - but don't," he added quickly, "'cause otherwise the kids'll be wonderin' where we're hidin' that parrot."

"Excuse me?" I raised my eyebrows, "I'm a great singer!"

"Hon, you're a woman of many talents," he said, "But, um, singin' ain't one of 'em. I was at Stark's funeral, remember?"

"That's not my fault!" I protested furiously, "My vocal chords'd been out of action for the past five years! You know what? I bet it was Banner; I bet he put them back together wrong as revenge for making him sleep in the same room as Thor!"

"'Cause he wasn't in the same room as Nat or 'cause Thor snores like a revvin' chainsaw?"

"Either! Both!"

"Well that still don't explain why you sang 'Lord of the Dance' like a funeral dirge!"

"We were at a funeral, and I thought it was a very touching moment!" I retorted, "You were in floods of tears!"

"They weren't tears of grief, hon! D'ya have any idea how hard it was to see Stark off with you singin' 'I-am-the-Lord-of-the-Dance-said-he' like someone readin' a bus timetable?"

"I….you-" the air crackled for a moment, and then we both suddenly burst out laughing. The smile on Clint's face was like the sun coming up, and I felt the macabre atmosphere that had settled into the room suddenly dissipate, leaving a sense of comforting warmth in its wake.

"Oh, Christ…" he finished laughing and gave me a look that made me feel a little dizzy inside, "I've missed you, hon."

"I missed you too," I said, "Even if I didn't know it."

"Okay; enough maudlin messin' around!" he said suddenly, and clapped his hands together, "I think it's pretty clear what Vi's showin' us, but we still don't know when, how, or why."

"Actually, I think we do," I stood up and started walking up and down the length of the bedroom.

"Oh, you got your 'pacin'' brain on now?" he said admiringly, "This is gonna be good."

"Quiet, you," I said, "We know 'when'; it was the day before we met Thera. As for 'how', well...okay, how about this? Let's say that she didn't draw that oak when I was in the shower? These two look like they're meant to be connected, and that would also explain why there's no date on the back of the tree."

"Vi drew 'em at the same time? From the hill?"

"Well, we know they know almost everything about us; maybe she decided to scope us out?"

"That's kinda creepy."

"And our satellite surveillance wasn't?" I said archly, and he winced in response, "Anyway, one day she decides she wants to draw it-"

"You mean, just like that?"

"Why not?"

"'Cause when most people want to snoop, they bring a camera."

"Have you seen a camera at the Blip Centre?" I pointed out, "Besides, Vi loves to draw, and I know for a fact she loves our house."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She used the word 'perfect' to describe it," I said, with a momentary surge of pride, "So anyway she sits down, starts drawing, maybe zones out a bit in the heat, and ends up with this nightmare."

"By accident?"

"She said yesterday that her drawings couldn't lie, and sometimes they just 'flow'. Besides, what did you say before? That you were 'just the meat'? Well...what if she's just the woman holding the pencil?"

"Still sounds nuts to me, hon."

"Maybe, but it explains so much! Like why she freaked out when I asked her if she'd draw the house, or why she got so stressed yesterday that she had to go cry outside! Being around a group of kids you've unwittingly drawn being murdered has to be pretty tough."

"Okay...okay, I could buy all that," he said, "But if I was Fury, for instance, I'd just say that opens up even more questions."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like...why was she even there in the first place? If you're right, and they ain't lying, then in two weeks they've gone from Blippin' into a cornfield with nothin' but the clothes on their back-"

"-and paint in their hair-"

"-to bein' at the doors of a S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse that even Stark didn't know about in less than two weeks! How'd they pull that one off, eh? They zeroed in on us like a cruise missile!"

"I told you, they know everything-"

"-about us, yeah. Trouble is, we've been spendin' so much time bein' goggle-eyed over that that we never stopped to think about why. What got 'em so curious in the first place?"

"Well, you're an Avenger, so…"

"...so they could just go to the Avenger Compound, or what's left of it. This ain't to do with me being an Avenger. It's somethin' else."

"Any ideas?"

"I was kinda hopin' you could tell me," he said, "You're meant to be the smart one. I'm jus' sitting here wonderin' why she looked at our house an' thought-" he shifted his voice upwards in a mocking tone, "Look, sweetie, what a simply perfect farmstead! You know what it reminds me of? That darling little villa we once saw burning to the ground!'"

"What, is Vi now the Queen of Englan-" I stopped, the joke dying on my tongue, "Hold on. Say that again."

"What? 'What a perfect farmstead?'"

"No, the bit where our home reminded her of this other house! That's it, Clint; that's why they're connected! She was thinking of it while she was drawing!"

"But why?"

"Exactly! That's the question we should be asking! Why would our house trigger the memory of some atrocity unless…" my blood suddenly went cold, and when I looked at Clint I could tell he was thinking the same thing, "...they think the same thing's going to happen here."

"Yeah, you're right!" he said, "An' that's what I meant about it bein' specific! If we can work out what Vi saw in the past, then we can work out why all these SUVs're knocking at our door!"

"That's true, but...you know what else this means, right? If they're warning us of a specific risk, they don't just think we're in danger. They know it."

I wasn't quite sure what I expected from that declaration. Most people, if they were told that they were in imminent danger from an unknown source, would've at least gasped, or possibly embarked on a course of desperate denial. What I didn't expect was for Clint to nod, shrug, and say 'okay' in a confident tone. Then again, Clint was an Avenger; he was used to being in danger and being able to make a difference, and I knew exactly how much he liked to get his teeth into things. A nebulous threat to his recently-resurrected family? A horror show. A clearly defined threat? That was something he knew how to handle, and if we could just make that last push we'd be squarely on his turf.

"So...a specific threat," he said, "Has Vi mentioned anythin' about this to you? Anythin' at all?"

"You know what she's like, hon," I blew out my cheeks, "I mean, she literally told me to look in her satchel and it took me an entire day to realise what she meant!"

"I'm sure she's said somethin'. Once you get past all those riddles an' sneakin' around, she's a pretty open book."

"That's true," I said, "Okay, I've got an idea. How about you, oh great and glorious Hawkeye, keep talking aloud, and I'll tell you if it reminds me of anything she's said."

"It's as good an approach as any," he conceded, and picked up the drawing, "So...what do you want me to say?"

"Just what you see. What do you think it is?"

"Well…" he squinted hard at the picture, "If we jus' think about the vehicles an' these fancy weapons, then I'm pretty sure we can rule out some local gang lookin' for a quick score. These guys're armed, armoured, an' from the way she's drawn 'em patrollin' the grounds I'd say they're well trained, too. Military, I'd say."

"You think the Army's out to get us?"

"I don't know about the Army…" he said, "'Cause the last time I checked, Chitauri Blasters an' black-tinted SUVs ain't exactly standard issue. The point I'm tryin' to make is that this ain't an accident or a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing; someone's actually sat down and planned how they'd take us down and gotten a bunch of professionals in to do it. The kind of professionals who ain't exactly concerned about beatin' on a defenceless woman an' her children."

"Children…" I frowned, and Clint gave me a quick look.

"Did that ring a bell?"

"I think so...but why would they do this? Are they sending a message?"

"Hon, we live in the middle of nowhere," he pointed out, "If we all got murdered by thugs, the first thing anyone'd probably know about it is if Maisie came by wonderin' why Lila weren't returning her calls."

"Like after the Snap, you mean?"

"Right," he said, and then a glimmer of realisation flashed across his eyes, "You know what? I actually know exactly what this is. There's only one reason why you'd use this kinda force against a defenceless family, and that's 'cause you want 'em to feel real fear before you kill 'em. It's a reprisal attack. Gotta be."

"A reprisal?" I blinked, and then my mind threw up the image of Vi staring into her thick black coffee, her eyes glistening with tears. Her choked whisper echoed hollowly in my mind.

"We were called out, once, to the aftermath of a reprisal attack. There was...they didn't stop at the adults, Laura, and they took their time."

"That's it! You were right!" I said, "I remember now; the first time we had coffee together she mentioned a reprisal attack. That villa must be her memory of it!"

"Kinda odd topic of conversation," he said, "How'd you get onto that?"

"I... actually can't remember."

"It might be important, hon."

"I know it's important, but at the time I was more worried about Coop!" I snapped, "I know she said she was there for the aftermath…"

"Really? She said that?" he said dubiously, "'Cause this picture kinda has a more 'in progress' feel than 'aftermath', if you get my drift."

"Well, that's what she said. I wasn't about to cross-examine her!" I said, "But I do remember her saying that she'd die before she let it happen again. If that drawing reflects how she feels about it...then I believe her."

"Gotta admit, anger an' fear're pretty good motivators."

"And she's intensely protective, too," I added, "When we got attacked at the Blip Centre, she was all smiles even while she was beating the shit out of them. The instant they turned on me...that's when she got scary, and I mean really scary."

"'Wanda in a bad mood' scary?"

"Maybe not that bad, but I wouldn't like to get between her and someone she felt responsible for. If they were a child, she'd probably go berserk."

"Huh. Wonder how much she'd charge for babysittin'."

"Do you really want to come home and find our kids worshipping some trickster Goddess? Or loaded up with practical jokes?" I pointed out, "She buried skeletons under her own porch to scare off renovators!"

"Okay, maybe not."

"Anyway...I'm sure that wasn't the only time she mentioned reprisals," I paused, and then snapped my fingers, "Wait! You remember when we tapped their phone line?"

"...well, it's a catalyst for all kinds of horror. Flayed bodies hanging from bridges? Reprisal attacks from the remaining Avengers?"

"You mean the time they knew we were listenin' in? They were messin' with us."

"Or they were saying something they wanted us to hear!" I said, "She was talking about attacks from the...remaining Avengers. Doesn't that suggest that this is a targeted attack on you?"

"I kinda figured that was the case," he said, "I mean, unless you reckon that Liv has a secret army with high-tech gear stashed away somewhere."

"I've heard she likes to skin people at PTA meetings, but...hold on-" I looked briefly at the folder and then made a lunge for it, "Vi mentioned something about like just a couple of days ago!"

"Hold on, hon," he said quickly, "I thought we were going to be methodical-"

"I am being methodical!" I said, as I yanked it open and began carefully removing the sheets inside, "It's got to be in here. I'm sure of it…"

"I don't know, do you think that 'being skinned alive and hanged from a bridge as a warning to others' is something you're particularly good at?"

It had sounded like a joke at the time, but I was sure now that it wasn't. Quickly, I pulled out the first sheet of paper and laid it on the bed. At first glance it appeared to be a duplicate of our ruined home, but on closer inspection I realised that it wasn't quite as detailed. The differences were subtle; the wood wasn't as carefully textured, and there were clear smudge marks in the smoke, but at the same time I got the impression that it had been drawn in a hurry and with less care than the first. It was also less ambiguous; as hard as I tried, I couldn't get the image to shift between the villa and our house. Either that was a trick that Vi wasn't interested in repeating, or one she couldn't.

"What's this-"

"Not what I'm looking for!" I said, and Clint's frown deepened as I pulled out more and more pieces of paper, laying them end to end across the blankets. Each one was the same as the one before it, but the quality and detail got progressively worse until the scene was little more than a skeletal sketch with a badly-scrawled fire over the top. While I couldn't feel the strong emotions buried in the original, from the scratches and smudges I got a strange mixture of both frustration and desperation. Whatever she'd been looking for, she hadn't found it.

"So...what's happenin' with these, then?" he said, "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was practicin'!"

"Worry about them later, Clint!" I said sharply, and with a grim sense of satisfaction I caught a glimpse of what was drawn on the final piece of paper, "Look."

It was the only picture in the folder that wasn't of our farmstead. Instead, it showed a large, glimmering river underneath a bright, clear sky. Straddling the river was an elaborate ironwork bridge which connected fields and forests to some tall, unlovely buildings that collectively formed an imposing skyline. In the background, a dramatic arch flashed in the sunlight as it twisted high into the sky, before falling back down to hide within the trees.

"That's St. Louis," Clint said, "That's the Gateway Arch, an' that's the Eads Bridge."

"Right," I said, "And that-"

I pointed to a small cluster of patrol boats, gathered around the centre of the longest span. Police were scrambling over the outside, standing and pointing towards five small, rather sad looking packages that were hanging from the iron lattices directly above them. Although Vi had mercifully blurred out the visceral detail, there was just enough to make it clear to me exactly what I was looking at.

"-that's the 'uncertain fate' I guess those mercs were dragging us off to," I concluded numbly, "Skinned alive, and hung from a bridge. Just like Vi was saying."

"This is...insane," Clint said. It was clear from his tone that he was struggling to keep a grip, but he battled on regardless, "This is our family-!"

"Then let's think fast!" I said sharply, "You said you didn't think they were sending a message? How is this not sending a message? I'm sure I heard about something like this happening in Mexico!"

"Yeah; drug war. And...yeah, it's hard to see how this ain't a message to the other Avengers, but...I'm sure it ain't."

"So what're you sure it is?"

"I still reckon it's revenge," he said firmly, "Look, some people just end up so far gone that they don't care what happens to them. They either want to take you down with 'em, or they want the entire world to know that they've beaten you. I'm pretty sure this is the second."

"Why?"

"'Cause if it wasn't, I wouldn't be hangin' there," he said clinically, "If you want someone to suffer, you take everythin' they have an' leave them alive. You don't let 'em off easy by killin' them."

"Who would do this?"

"Well...I've got some thoughts on that," Clint said, and pointed back to the drawing that had started all of this, "Like I told you before, there ain't no coincidence that these SUVs're the same model as the ones that those mercs used yesterday, an' we know that they were packin' a Chitauri Blaster, so…"

"You think it was that same group?"

"An' I reckon it was the same employer," he said, "It's Keame. It's gotta be."

It add up. I knew it added up, but I also knew that I really didn't want to believe it. With that thought came a whole host of horrible implications that I almost instinctively shied away from, and I felt my stomach turn to ice as I turned them over and over in my head.

"Keame? You can't be serious," I said. I'd aimed for a light tone, but it rang false even in my ears, "He's a public figure!"

"If it'd been someone else, Vi would've given us a different paintin'. Specific, remember?" Clint said, "An' besides, bein' a public figure didn't stop him from tryin' to have you killed!"

"He was aiming for Thera and Vi! We were just in the way!"

"Then how about Bulgakov? Or Bennett?"

"We don't...actually know it was him, do we," I said, "It could've been someone else in his organisation, right, or-"

"Hon," Clint said, calmly, "We know what he's capable of. If it ain't him callin' the shots directly, it's only 'cause he's maintain' enough distance to be able to plead innocence."

"But...why?" I asked pleadingly, "Is this because we're trying to stand up to him? Is it because I called him an 'asshole'? Or is it because of something we're going to do in the future?"

"Um, no, hon," Clint said, "You don't skin people alive an' hang 'em from bridges 'cause they call you an 'asshole'. Or because they're competition."

"No, I guess not," I relaxed slightly, "But...he's got wealth, power, political clout; hell, that Caleb bastard all but said that he's got the police in his back pocket! If people found out that he'd...sanctioned something as abominable as this then he'd lose everything!"

"You're assumin' he doesn't reckon he's already lost everythin'" Clint said quietly, "We always assume that people like him're do 'cause they're megalomaniacs; y'know, they're willin' to sacrifice everythin' and everyone just for a bit more power. I'm pretty sure that ain't the case here."

"Then what is the case, then?"

"I'm pretty sure you already know, hon," he continued, "You just don't want to admit it to yourself. Keame...yeah, he was a good person before the Blip, an' then when he comes back he takes full control of his company, starts investin' in arms tech, an' starts this political movement that's causin' people to go mad up an' down the country. You know what's drivin' all of that? What d'ya think can turn a good man into a torturin', murderin', Blip supremacist asshole?"

"It's anger, isn't it," I said softly, "After the Blip I wasn't myself, because I was just so angry...at everything."

"It ain't just anger. It's rage. Rage an' grief. It's what drove me over the edge, an...I reckon it's what drove Vi over the edge as well. I bet she knows exactly what I'm talkin' about."

"You can't imagine what it's like to have that self-righteous, white hot flame burning in you all the time. It cleanses you of everything, including your humanity. You become a monster."

"She did," I murmured, "How did you-?"

"You can tell, if you know where to look," he said simply, "She can do up her hair an' throw on a pretty dress, but there's that hardness in the eyes that'll never go away. It's like a scar."

"So you're saying that he doesn't care about gaining more power? It's just a means to an end?"

"Yeah," Clint said, "Like I said, you only start flayin' people when you've gotten to the point when you jus' don't care anymore. I got there, I reckon Vi got there, and now Keame's there. He'll destroy anything, includin' himself, if that's what it'll take to get what he wants."

"And what does he was...oh, my goodness," I said. He was right, I didn't want to admit it to myself, but it was the only option that made sense, "He wants to take revenge, doesn't he. For his son."

"Exactly," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "If I were a bettin' man, I'd say that everythin' he's done recently has been to get himself in the position where he could come after us, kidnap us, and...do that-" he slapped the drawing with the back of his hand, "-to us and our children. He wants me to feel what it was like for him to lose his son."

"But that...that would have to mean that…" I faltered as the ice-cold feeling in my stomach suddenly turned to nausea, "He knows you're Ronin!"

The room fell deadly quiet, and in that moment I genuinely thought I was going to vomit. My stomach gurgled and churned in terror, and for an instant I imagined that I could feel the flames of our burning home licking at my feet. Our home, our lives, our children, dragged away and brutally murdered by a man driven mad with grief. How could this be happening?

"No. No no no no no!" I said, and then my voice started rising uncontrollably, "How could he know? How could he know, Clint? You said Stark wiped everything!"

"I don't know!" Clint recoiled before my sudden fury, "But...I don't think he knows yet! If he did, you can bet those troops would've been here yesterday!"

"So they'll be here tomorrow instead?" I shouted, and bit down hard. The kids absolutely couldn't hear about this, "So if Stark wiped everything...who else knows, Clint?"

"You, me, Rhodey...that's it!" he said, "I mean, Stark and Nat knew, but they're...well…"

"Gone," I finished for him, "Would the Colonel say anything?"

"What, to someone like Keame? No way! He probably doesn't even know he exists!"

"And that's it?" I raised my eyebrows, "Because it seems like you're forgetting a couple of people!"

"You mean Thera and Vi?"

"Yeah; how did they find out?"

"How did they find out anything about us?" he retorted, "Who knows, maybe Nat told 'em on the way out the door!"

"Oh, you do not get to be flippant about this, Clint!" I hissed, "Thanks to your damn rampage our children're in mortal danger! Do you understand that? Damnit, this is what Vi was talking about all along, isn't it! Why didn't I pick up on this?"

"But I also know how far-reaching the consequences can be. The debt always comes due, I'm afraid."

"Seriously, hon, I did everything I could to prevent 'em findin' out about Ronin! I did!" Clint said, "While I was Ronin it was 'cause I didn't want to get caught, but then when Nat told me there was a chance we could bring you back I had to make sure that-"

"-your vigilantism didn't follow you home? You've done a bang up job there, haven't you!" I snarled, "The one thing Hawkeye didn't see coming! Damnit!"

"I don't understand!" he said, and despite the descending red mist I could sense his sincerity and confusion, "Stark promised me he wiped everything!"

"This is Stark we're talking about! The patron saint of unintended consequences!" I spread my hands, "How many times have you been called into action to clean up a mess he's been responsible for?"

"He was still a genius!"

"Well, if nobody's going to talk, and Stark really did wipe everything, then what's left? Is Keame going to see a vision in his toast? Will pixies whisper 'Clint Barton is Ronin' in his ears while he sleeps? Or will the evidence going to be delivered gift-wrapped to him by a fucking stork?"

"Now who's being flippant?"

"Oh, be quiet!" I leapt to my feet and started pacing again, "I need to think..."

Did the pacing help? Probably not, but the fear and fury rising up inside were easily the equal of anything I'd felt oozing out of Vi's drawing. I had a choice; either I could pace, or I could scream incoherently and just smash up everything in the room. At least if I did then those damn troops wouldn't be able to steal anything of value when they finally came for me! This was so damn unfair! Why in the world was I, and my children, being forced to pay the price for Clint's rage-fuelled rampage? How was this karma?

It was worse than that, though. Thera and Vi had known about this. They'd known about this for weeks, possibly since the Blip, and what had they done with that time and their prodigious capabilities? Jack shit. Well...maybe that wasn't entirely fair, but now they were gone and I was left staring down the barrel of a Chitauri Blaster being wielded by a man who wanted to steal my skin! Why had they done that? Why couldn't they have found a more proactive way to warn us?

"Would you have thanked me...knowing you were living on borrowed time?"

Vi's voice, echoing once again in my mind, did very little to console me. It was nothing more than arrogance, plain and simple. It was my right to know that I was in danger, just as it was my right to spend whatever time was left to me how I chose! Who was she to believe that she knew better than me?

"Is this panic-driven temper tantrum really helping? You need to focus, Laura!" this time it was my little inner voice. It sounded both peevish and angry at the same time, "Your life, Clint's life, and your children's lives are riding on it! What are you going to do?"

Okay...okay; let's think about this. Clint was probably right; Keame might eventually find out who Ronin was, but he didn't know right now. If we could work out how he would find out, then maybe we could do something to stop it. At the very least we could make sure that we weren't home when the skin-stealers came to call.

So….how was he going to find out? Despite my snide comments before, I was pretty sure he didn't have access to pixies, storks, or clairvoyant toast, or indeed anything else that might fall squarely within Strange's remit. Therefore, any deduction of Ronin's identity was going to be from a 'normal' source. Witnesses? Ronin didn't leave witnesses, and if he had been that careless then he would've been in a shallow grave long before we'd ever Blipped back. Besides, who was going to believe the word of a half-traumatised criminal over that of an Avenger who'd just saved the universe? It wasn't something you'd go to war over, to be sure.

What did that leave? Well, video footage, or a picture that undeniably linked Clint to Ronin or the scene of the crime. Stark said he'd wiped everything, but what if he hadn't? No, that felt like the wrong word; what if he couldn't?

"You never told me how Stark actually deleted everything, Clint," I said coldly, "How'd he do it?"

"He wrote a virus," he said, with the distant air of someone slipping into shock, "It was programmed to inspect and delete images an' videos for images that identified me as Ronin."

"Clever. But how did he know he'd wiped everything?"

"'Cause all the security footage was taken usin' Stark tech cameras," he said, with a small smile, "They upload their footage to Stark servers, an'-" he shrugged, "I don't understand. There shouldn't be anything."

"Well clearly there is!" I said angrily, and resumed pacing. This was classic Stark; a genius piece of work, resplendent in its elegance, coupled perfectly with a screw-up of almost unimaginable scale. If there was something, then...that would have to mean that his virus hadn't achieved full penetration. What if there was a server out there that held the data, but hadn't been online when he'd released the virus? No; he'd have known that was a possibility, and surely any virus would've been coded to lie dormant, wait for the server to be reconnected, and then move in for the kill. So...what if the server was still out of reach? What if it was being kept out of reach? That would mean that someone would have to know-

"Oh, my god," I said, and stopped pacing, "Oh my god!"

Clint looked at me sharply, "What is it?"

"We've forgotten someone, Clint!" I said, with a wild, slightly unhinged smile, "There's someone else who knows who Ronin is!"

"Who?"

"Bulgakov! Sophia Bulgakov!" I said, "I remember thinking that it was really weird that she just hung up on us when you said your name, but what if she knew? What if she was trying to hide from us?"

"Why would she do that?"

"You know that guy I was talking to? He's not going to sell to us after all."

"Because she knew she'd sold us out? Vi mentioned that there was a 'guy' who wasn't going to sell to her, and then yesterday she was yelling at Sophia because she 'threw a wrench' into her plans. It wasn't a guy at all!"

"You think Vi thought she was a man?"

"If they'd met online, or if Vi had been texting her she might've done - or Sophia was hiding her identity. Neither Vi not Thera seem to be really all that techy; I had to show her how to use a smartphone, for Christ's sake!"

"So, Vi an' Keame were in competition with each other?"
"And she lost out! It would explain why Sophia was begging for forgiveness when Vi tracked her down again. She's not the kind of person I'd try to screw."

"You think she sold us out-"

"For access to her husband! Maybe she tried to back out when she realised what was going to happen to us if they found out, and-"

"If #273 ends up in the wrong hands, you'll be wishing you'd stayed Snapped."

And there it was.

Maybe the mixture of adrenalin, fear, and anger were causing my brain to work in strange ways, but it suddenly all seemed so obvious. Everyone we knew, everyone who'd been involved, was bound together by a single, unifying entity. It was worth fighting for, worth killing for, and through its mere existence it had threatened to bring Missouri to the brink of Strange's worst nightmares.

"Clint," I said hoarsely, "Answer me this. What links the Bulgakovs, Bennett, Stark, Keame, Thera, Vi...and me?"

"Um…" he thought for a moment, "It's Helix International, isn't it? Bulgakov worked there, Bennett designed the security, Stark owned it, Keame's buyin' it, Thera and Vi tried to infiltrate it, and...you? I dunno, but it's gotta be Helix International."

"Not quite," I said, "You asked me how Vi and I got talking about that reprisal attack, yeah? Said it was important?"

"...yeah?"

"You were right, because I've remembered that she said something very interesting. How many people did Ronin kill again?"

"Um...maybe two hundred and fifty?" he said, "I kinda lost count."

"I think you did, because Vi asked me what she was meant to do with 'two hundred and seventy three counts of murder'. 2-7-3. You get it now?"

"I-" the colour drained from his face, "-that can't be possible."

"The answer isn't 'Helix International'. It's '#273'," I breathed, "It's you."