Oh no, I realized I forgot to do my shoutouts for reviewers! Shoutouts to YAS, Aubrey Etta, , Just Another Netflixer, isikiddo, MoonIce20408, piccolover22, Maite Sanchez, Sara, Guest, agentromanoffblackwidow, so-lovely-and-i, kamarooka, pengineer, MaddieFayeth96, CreativeDreamer98, Guest, Noraye92, justadream666z, Guest, pinoychick143, dreamhaunter06, amy. .9, Mokikaitlyn, Lily, and Guest for reviewing!

I've had some questions about my OC stories. Yes, I deleted them. I'm so sorry for those of you who read them and liked them, but I thank y'all for reading them and enjoying them while they were still up!

Song for the chapter: "Help I'm Alive" - Metric

Let me know what you think!

Enjoy! =)

Chapter 3

After a few hours of archery lessons, both Wanda and Clint decided that maybe archery wasn't Wanda's strength. Neither of them wanted to say out loud what her real strength was because they both knew exactly where her real power lay, but they quietly laughed and called their training session a successful bust for the day. When Wanda left, an awkward but not necessarily uncomfortable tension still between them, he spent the rest of his day finishing his paperwork and starting Natasha's paperwork. She was gone, and she'd fall behind, so he figured he might as well start it for her.

He could picture Natasha's reaction already when she came back. Between the two of them, she was the paperwork person. She hated filling out the endless forms the same way he did, but she was the motivator, the one who always found some way to make it fun. Most of the time she set a goal for the end. If they both finished their paperwork on time, they could swing by that Chinese place they both really liked and maybe even go crazy and splurge on a giant bottle of soda. Neither he nor Natasha liked soda all that much, but having it for a goal at the end of a long day of papers and pens and the smell of ink drying was enough to get them to work harder.

Sometimes Natasha made special playlists to quietly play while they did paperwork. Sometimes she even went so far as to let him make a playlist. Even though she always fought him on it, she liked the music he chose. He could see through all the groans and the eye rolls, through all the comments about how he couldn't live outside the 1980s, the days when he should have been in high school like the rest of the kids his age. But he could see that look in her eye that told him she liked the songs he played and was content to let him choose the music when she was in the mood for them.

It had actually been a while since he'd done paperwork by himself, he realized. He didn't have Natasha's restless feet tapping against the floor, the sounds of her pen lightly whacking the desk as she tried to remember a date. He had to deal with all these papers by himself, and she wasn't even there to play some of her music, music he also pretended to hate but secretly enjoyed.

Somehow, as time passed, he managed to get lost in the rhythm of skimming, writing, and recalling dates. Every now and then he had to stop and look up a certain procedure or protocol, names of certain agents, so on and so forth, but he hit a rhythm, and he flowed with it. He could usually get caught up with it after a while, but he usually had Natasha with him to encourage his rhythm with her own.

"Barton. Hey."

Clint looked up and saw Maria Hill stalking into the room. "Hey yourself. Back so soon?"

"Yeah. Where's Cap?"

"Gone. He had one of his special trips." Clint smirked and shot her a knowing look. "Nat and Birdman went with him."

"Still not giving that nickname up, huh?" Maria's face melted into amusement, an expression she rarely wore but one that suited her whenever she did let it come out.

"Nope. I'm the original bird. The one and only," he quipped.

"I do recall you getting pissy anytime someone made a bird joke, and I do believe you've been doing that ever since you were recruited into SHIELD." Maria sat down in Natasha's chair without being invited, and she smirked at Clint while he gave a half-shrug, rolling his eyes as he did.

"So I'm sensitive. Sue me," he drawled. "What were you and Fury off doing? Don't give me that look. Nothing's classified anymore."

"Everything's classified," Maria corrected with a look in his direction. "We might run things differently here because we're Avengers, but there are a lot of other small SHIELD teams who still run by the old protocols. They're still SHIELD."

"Oh, come on, Hill," Clint snorted, his expression now turning sarcastic and slightly bitter. "Is any of us SHIELD anymore? It's been a year since SHIELD fell. A year for HYDRA to run crazy all over the entire planet. Hell, they're probably up somewhere in a space shuttle for all we know, too. They could be wreaking havoc on the goddamn galaxy, but we're not SHIELD. Not anymore."

"We're trying to keep some semblance of SHIELD then," Maria said in an attempt to compromise. Now she looked tired. She looked like she'd been running herself ragged, which quite honestly, was what she'd been doing for months. Clint knew more than anyone else just how much she did for SHIELD, the Avengers, whatever the hell they all were anymore. She wasn't Fury's right hand woman because her hair looked nice in a bun—she was in a position of power because she'd earned it. All of her hard work throughout the years hadn't been wasted, and Clint had watched her rise to the very top.

"Alright. Some semblance of SHIELD. You talking about that sad little team Coulson has going?" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice this time. When Maria's sharp blue eyes met his, he didn't look away.

"You're still mad no one told you he's alive?" she asked. "Come on, Clint. You know SHIELD. You know we can't just tell people classified information based on sentimental connections."

"Oh, please. I'm not mad about that," he said, giving another offhand shrug. "I'm not. I'm just confused as hell about what they're doing. You won't give me any information on it, and some people Nat and I both know and care about are out there dealing with that shit."

"It's being handled." Maria's face lost any softness it'd had before, and she went straight back to her cool, professional gaze. "I actually didn't come here to talk to you about Coulson's team, what SHIELD is these days, or anything else you're set on arguing about."

Clint's eyes flared, and he went to snap back at her that he wasn't arguing, but he stopped himself before the words went to his mouth. Avengers didn't have much these days, and even if they didn't always like each other, they sure as hell needed each other. And even though he didn't want to admit that he needed Maria, he was forced to. "So enlighten me then. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Natasha skipped her psych eval."

Maria's words hit Clint harder than if she'd actually thrown a punch and hit him off guard. He blinked once and then twice, and then he frowned. That couldn't be right, he thought to himself. Maria couldn't be right. Natasha never missed her post-mission psych evals. Even when she'd gone through missions that had fucked her up to where she could barely go through debriefing, she'd gone to her psych evals. She always went. No matter what. Whether she knew she was going to fail them or pass them, she went because that was what agents were supposed to do.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "No…no, Nat wouldn't do that."

"I was surprised, too, when I saw it," Maria allowed herself to admit. "But she did. Everyone else went except for her. Even Wanda Maximoff went to hers."

"But—but Nat's never skipped a psych eval. Are you sure that's right?" Clint asked, but he already knew the answer. Maria wouldn't have come to him if she weren't sure. She was nothing if not thorough, and he knew she never would have dreamed of sitting there in Natasha's chair while she told him this bit of news unless she was sure.

"I'm sure," she responded, her voice steady and patient.

"Well, why are you coming to me?" Clint frowned and twisted his mouth slightly to the side as he studied the commander. "Isn't this some kind of breach of patient-doctor confidentiality?"

"I'm coming to you because I'm going to pull her off all assignments until she gets her psych eval taken care of," Maria coolly answered.

"What?" Clint leaned forward now, hanging to Maria's every word. "You—you're just going to pull her off assignments? Just like that?"

"Clint, that's what we'd do for any other agent, and you know that. And don't give me another lecture about how we're Avengers and not SHIELD agents anymore. I know that. I do. But if Natasha's skipping her psych eval, what do you think that means? She's never skipped it before. She always goes, no matter how messed up she's been after a mission. Why would she skip this psych eval?" Maria stressed. Her eyes stared straight into Clint's, and he wanted to look away. He knew what Maria was after—he knew she saw it directly in his face, and he desperately wanted to turn his eyes away from her so she couldn't see it anymore. But he couldn't.

"It's just not like her," he mumbled, and he shook his head. "It's not."

"If she purposefully missed it, something's going on with her, and until she lets us help her, I'm pulling her off all assignments. It's a miracle I'm not calling Rogers right now and demanding him bring her back here," Maria said. Her voice was still serious, but there was a slight hint at a joke in it in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood just a little bit.

He glanced at her without changing his expression. "So why are you coming to me about this? Like I said, you're probably violating some kind of patient-doctor confidentiality just by telling me this shit."

If Maria were annoyed by Clint's sharp words, she didn't show it. Instead, she leaned forward, still looking him directly in the eye. "If anyone knows her, it's you."

"If you're going to pull some bullshit and ask me to watch her the way you had her watch me after the Battle of New York, no. I'm not doing it."

"Clint." Maria rarely used his name. She had always called him Barton, Agent, or Agent Barton. But today she'd used his first name three times, so when she used it this last time, he closed his mouth, and he stared back at her. "I'm not asking you to do that. I'm asking you to talk to her when she gets back. I'm not…I didn't come here because I have ulterior motives, believe it or not. I'm still your friend. I'm still Natasha's friend. But I'm also a commander in whatever sad little organization we are now, and I have to make sure everyone's taken care. So I'm here today as Maria Hill, your friend. Not Commander Hill, your boss. Ok?"

Clint hid how chastised he felt, and he forced himself to look away. "Alright. Fine. I'll talk to her."

"Get her to come in. I don't want to suspend her. I don't want to pull her off missions. Between you and me…she's the best person we've got these days. If not the best, she's one of them, and that's disregarding her Avengers status. You and Nat have always been STRIKE Team: Delta for a reason, and she's half of it."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss those days," Clint admitted as he brought his gaze back to Maria's face. He didn't look so confrontational or angry, she realized. Now he just looked…confused. He looked confused and maybe even a little bit sad, despite the sarcastic smile that worked its way across his mouth. "Miss how easy it used to be when Fury was director, Coulson was our handler, and Nat and I took out the bad guys whenever we had orders."

"I miss those days, too," Maria quietly admitted. "And yes…things were easier then. Surprisingly so. They were easier, not quite as messy, and…well." She sighed and gave him her own dry smile. "Then aliens dropped from the sky, and HYDRA came out of seemingly nowhere. And now things are complicated, and we can't go back to how they were."

"No, we can't," he agreed. "Well. Thank you for stopping by. I will pass along your concerns to Natasha without letting her know they're from you."

"Good. Well. Looks like we have a hacker in our system that I need to go look into. Damn hackers never seem to give us a break." Maria stood up to go, but she lingered by Natasha's desk a little longer. "I'm honestly not trying to monitor anyone, Barton. In case you couldn't tell from the robot invasion we just had, the world needs the Avengers. The world needs Natasha."

Clint nodded to show he understood, and then as Maria leaves, one thought passes through his mind.

It's not just the world.

"Honey, I was trained to fly. I was born to fly. This is where my area of expertise lies," Sam said as Natasha rolled her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that flight. "You think you're a better pilot than me? I was born to be in the air."

"Oh, please. Just because you were born to have literal wings doesn't mean that I'm not just as good." Natasha shot him a look, and he laughed and shook his head. "What? Look. I'm doing just as good a job as you are."

"Yeah, you are," he agreed, his dark eyes skimming over how she was handling the controls. "You're a damn good pilot. But I'm going to need you to show me you're better."

A sly smile passed over her lips, and she grinned at him. "Let me take your wings for a spin, and we'll see about that."

"Hell no, Romanoff. Hell. No."

A flashing light on the control panel caught Natasha's eye, and she looked towards it. "Cap? We're reaching our destination. We'll be at Camp Lehigh shortly. Know the good places to land?"

"I have an idea of where to go, but times change," Steve drily responded as he came up to her shoulder to peer at the controls. "If you keep going North but turn a little Northwest, you'll find a big open field where you can land this thing."

"This thing is a quinjet, and she deserves your respect, living legend," Sam interjected. Steve grinned, and he shook his head.

"Just see about landing us safely, ok?"

"Roger that, Captain," Natasha smartly replied. "Keep going North but a little Northwest. Got it. Sure you can handle that, Sam?"

"Sweetheart, I can handle it in my sleep."

"If you call me one more endearment…"

"What? What are you gonna do?"

"Is that the field Cap was talking about?"

"Think so. Ready to land this bird?"

"Not a bird. She's a quinjet, and she deserves your respect."

"Hilarious. So funny I forgot to laugh."

"Just help me land this thing."

Natasha smiled as Sam bent the controls the exact way he was supposed to in order to help with a smooth landing. It had been a while since she'd been able to banter with someone like this, to joke around and shoot the shit and just have fun. It wasn't that she didn't have fun with Clint—God, did she have fun with him. He was probably one of the funniest people she knew, but sometimes it was nice to have someone else tease her and laugh with her. It was just nice to finally smile after everything she and the rest of the team had experienced recently.

"Leave your guns here," Steve ordered as the quinjet came to a smooth, gentle landing in the field. Natasha noticed the way Sam didn't even bother to argue it. She figured by now he'd been on enough search-and-rescue missions for Barnes that he knew the rule of no guns by now, at least enough not to argue. Even though Natasha had accompanied on some of those missions, she hadn't been on nearly as many as Sam. While she'd still been trying to help make things right with SHIELD and HYDRA, Sam had been the one helping Steve try to track down Barnes. At this point, Natasha thought it was a wild goose chase, but she didn't say so. She knew Steve wanted to find Barnes, to find this one link to his past. She knew Steve wanted to find this person he cared about, and she couldn't blame him. If she were in his position, she'd want to, as well.

"Keep the quinjet running?" Natasha asked.

"No. If Bucky sees it, there's a chance he could use it for his own escape," Steve replied.

"But it'll be faster if I keep it running," Natasha countered. Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Sam shrugged.

"I can stay," he offered. "I'll keep the jet running, and you can go with Steve. There isn't a need for all three of us to go, right?"

Steve processed Sam's offer, and he tightened his jaw a little bit. He looked back at Natasha. "You ok with that? Do you think we need three people?"

"Please, Rogers, you insult me," she said sweetly. "You and I can get the job done if worse comes to worst. Besides, I doubt Barnes'll still be here. You got that shot of him from early this morning? If he's trying to avoid running into anyone he knows, whether it's you or HYDRA, he won't stick around very long."

"But if he's here," Steve pushed. "If he's here, do you think we can handle it?"

She smirked and pressed the button to lower the doors. "Of course we can handle it."

"I'm in love with you!" Sam shouted as she walked off the quinjet, Steve right beside her. She smiled as she looked up into the starry night sky, her green eyes alert and precise. Behind her, the door rose back up, and it was just her and Steve facing the elements of Camp Lehigh all alone.

"Deja vouz yet?" Steve asked quietly.

"You know it," she returned. Silent as the night around them, they began to creep forward into the camp. Natasha had only been there once before, and she'd studied maps of the camp's layout, both from back when Steve had been there and the last layout it had had before it'd shut down, but she didn't think she could ever know this place better than Steve did. Camp Lehigh was where Steve had been trained, and in a way, it was where Captain America had been born. She wasn't nearly anywhere near as sentimental as Steve, at least not where she'd let anyone see, but she understood why his face was set with such determination, why his eyes were so hard and never lingered in one spot too long.

They both continued farther and farther into the camp. Natasha noticed that Steve didn't even pull his shield out. Her curiosity didn't last long, however, because she realized that Steve went on these missions not because he was hunting down bad guys—he went on these searches for Barnes because he was looking for a friend. While Natasha longed to feel the steady, firm handle of her Glock in her hand, she knew that this wasn't her mission.

"Nat." Steve's voice caught her attention, and she looked back towards him. His blue eyes fixated on a building off to her right, and he nodded at it, a sign for her to enter. "Check here."

Natasha leaned her ear against the closest door to see if she could hear anything inside. Her eyes met Steve's, and she shook her head no. She went to start to pick the lock, but Steve stepped forward. "I've got this."

She gave him a look, but she moved aside as he snapped the lock with his shield, much like he had the time before when they'd been there. "Old habits die hard, huh, Cap?"

He smirked but quietly entered the building, Natasha hot on his heels. "This is where Buck would have processed in."

"Yeah?" Natasha squinted through the darkness but couldn't see much. "They have lights back then?"

"Funny." He continued to move forward through the darkness, and Natasha kept all of her senses on alert. If anything happened, she needed to be ready. She'd been on too many missions where she'd let herself get just the slightest bit too comfortable, and she'd learned that she could never get too comfortable with a mission. She always had to be prepared. She always had to be ready, waiting.

As she moved farther into the darkness, she felt a strange pang back behind her eyes, and her heart jolted a bit. No, she told herself. No, you can't get one of those headaches here. Not now. Not here. No.

If she and Steve get through the entire camp in time, maybe the headache wouldn't get worse, she figured. Maybe if they were quick enough, she could still stay focused. But as she thought about the uncomfortable pain that would start to swell until she couldn't think, she missed the familiar sensation of eyes watching her vividly through the darkness.