Everything was a mess. I could feel everything and nothing all at the same time. Something was freezing and burning my skin. Colours swirled around my vision keeping the blackness away. The black kept trying to consume the swirling colours but there was something keeping it at bay. Someone was saying my name, over and over again. The voice was wrong though. It was a voice from a long time ago. A voice I'd only heard on voicemail over and over again from the last year. A habit I hadn't told anyone about.

I wanted to respond to it. To reach out and try and find the source of where it was coming from. Nothing in my body wanted to cooperate. I couldn't move but felt myself twitching uncontrollably. It was an odd contradiction. My chest hurt the most. It felt like something was sitting on me, slowly squeezing the breath out of me. No matter what I did, I couldn't suck in enough air.

"WAKE UP!"

I jerked back into the land of consciousness with a gasp. A second later, I was coughing uncontrollably. The cockpit was fast filling with smoke. The smell of aviation gas made me gag and my body constricted as it fought to throw up and fight for air at the same time. It took me a second to get orientated as I fought back both feelings. Water was dripping down onto my face from the layers of ice around the cockpit. I blinked a few times before my mind caught up that I was awake and took in the scene around me.

We'd somehow become level, even though I was certain we crashed on the side. Ice surrounded the entire cockpit inches thick. It was cracked in places. I could see spiderwebs spread throughout it. Clint was beside me, I could barely make him out amongst the smoke and the black of the cockpit.

We were alive.

I had no idea how it happened. But I was very glad to be not dead. Everything right down to the roots of my hair hurt. As much as everything ached, I couldn't feel any major damage. With shaking fingers, I unbuckled my harness and unceremoniously fell out of the chair when my limbs decided not to work. I landed on the control panel awkwardly, feeling buttons and levers dig into my aching body. The smoke seemed to be filling the cockpit faster now. The need for oxygen made my body react before my mind could. I rolled forward, putting my hand up on the spiderwebbed ice closest to me. My power surged out of my hand before I could think of it and seconds later the ice shattered into a million shards of ice crystals. The ones on the ceiling rained down on my body making me shiver.

Cold air rushed in as I flopped back on the control panel. I greedily sucked in the fresh air filling the cockpit. I don't know how long I lay there. It could have been seconds or hours as I got the much needed oxygen back into my body. My head hurt and I felt groggy as hell. I reached up to touch a tender spot on my forehead, only to feel something warm and sticky. Fucking great, I was bleeding. Greg always said that head wounds bleed a lot.

I blinked as that thought hit my head. Fuck me, why was I thinking about Greg right now? Come to think of it, I swear I'd been hearing the voice of a ghost before. One that yelled at me to wake up. That was impossible though. It had to be a result of hitting my head far too hard.

Groaning, I rolled over again and forced my body into a sitting position. I put my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut. My head was so jumbled but I knew one thing. I couldn't stay here. We were sitting ducks in a big shiny target right now. The cloaking would have shit itself as soon as we crashed. If the enemy had heat-seeking missiles, I didn't doubt they'd be able to track us easily. So much for the intel being that they barely had any tech. For the Quinjet to completely lose power like we had, I didn't doubt the last explosion had been an EMP. Our attack had been anticipated and we'd been out maneuvered easily.

"Clint." My voice came out hoarse and scratchy. I stopped myself before I could do it again. If we had been hit with an EMP trying to talk to Clint would be useless. His hearing aids would be shot. Now the smoke was gone I could see him a little better. He was sitting at an awkward angle in the chair, blood coating the right side of his face. He looked lifeless and if it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his chest, I'd fear the worst.

I forced myself to my feet. I had to move and get us out of here quickly. I shook Clint's arm as hard as I could. He didn't make a sound or move a muscle. I grimaced, reaching up and rubbed my knuckle up and down his sternum. It hurt like hell and would rouse most people out of unconsciousness. His body flinched under the pressure, but he still didn't wake. This was not good. I had to make a snap decision, one that could very well be the wrong one. I forced my feet to move before I could start second guessing that decision.

It was dark in the Quinjet, but my luck was holding up tonight. The door separating the cockpit and the back had wedged itself closed. It only took a small shove for me to get it open. The hinges groaned in protest as the door swung open into the back. One of the emergency lights was still working in the back. It wasn't much but it was enough to find what I needed. Our gear was stowed in the first compartment behind the pilot seat in the cockpit. My hands shook violently as I struggled to get it open at the odd angle it was in. The back of the Quinjet was a mess from what I could see. The ramp was obliterated, pieces of it were scattered throughout the back end. Supplies were strewn everywhere. My boots made crunching noises from whatever I want standing on every time I shifted my feet. The compartment finally opened with an ominous creak. I reached into it, pulling out what I needed. There were two things I wouldn't leave behind. Clint's bow and Riley's CheyTac.

My mind kept telling me to be sensible and grab the AWSM as I put on the belt with Clint's P30's, both our knives and the ammo for the CheyTac. I don't know why, it could have been the minor concussion I was sure I was sporting, but something told me I really needed the CheyTac. I'd finished arming myself and went back into the cockpit. Clint's bow was strung around my chest like Clint always wore when he wasn't using it. I managed to fit the CheyTac alongside the quiver. It was awkward and heavy, but there was still more weight to come. I adjusted the weight as well as I could and took in a deep breathing looking at my friend in front of me. Clint was still slumped in his chair. At least his breathing was steady. I had no way to check for any other injuries and right now I had to hope I wasn't doing more harm than good.

We were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest civilization was at least 100 miles away over a desert. There was no way I could get Clint and I both to safety. We wouldn't have landed more than a few miles from the town. Going in either direction could be a death sentence. I had no idea if the other teams were alive or what state they'd be in. The enemy had to have some form of communications device though. It would be impossible for them not to. It was our only chance of getting out of here alive.

"Okay Kari," I said to myself, bracing my mind and body for what was to come. "You've been doing weights. This won't be a problem."

I was going to have to carry Clint. I couldn't leave him here in the wreckage. Someone would come looking through it sooner rather than later. Our luck wouldn't hold out for much longer, I had to move and do it now. I knelt down and undid Clint from his harness. He crumpled forward immediately without the harness holding him in. I used the momentum and sent a mental thank you to the hard arsed Sergeant who made us do fireman carry drills until I couldn't walk any further when I was in flight school. I never thought I'd have to use it.

My entire body shook with exertion as I hoisted Clint up over my shoulder. My knees threatened to buckle under the weight and my back protested immediately at Clint's weight. His body draped over me awkwardly but there was nothing I could do to shift him into a more comfortable position.

"First step, come on," I coached myself through gritted teeth as I straightened up.

My legs felt like they were weighed down with lead. The first step was agony. My breath came out in ragged gasps at the extra 200 pounds on my body. No matter how much it hurt, I forced my feet up and forward in another step. Then another.

I made it to the back of the cockpit before my legs gave way from underneath me. Clint's unconscious form and I both crashed to the ground. I felt like I'd just run into a brick wall. Stars floated around in my vision as I pushed us both up against a broken chair, panting like I'd run a marathon instead of taking 20 steps. Every ache from made itself know, feeling a hundred times worse than before. My throat burnt and I could feel tears gather in the corner of my eyes. I couldn't do this. How was I going to get us to safety if I couldn't even get 10 steps out of the Quinjet? I was suddenly very alone and deathly afraid of what was going to happen. I was our only hope and I couldn't do it. Clint and I were going to die in the back of this Quinjet. The crash hadn't killed us. I had.

My head ached as the tears that were threatening spilled over and ran down my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my head in my hands. Images and memories started to run through my head, whether I wanted them to or not.

I thought of Jared. He'd be out of his mind with worry right now. He and Natasha were probably already trying to get here. Whether the other STRIKE Teams would be allowed to come after us or not was going to be at the discretion of higher powers. This mission could very easily be written off as a total loss. SHIELD didn't have the same mentality about leaving people behind like the military. We were expendable. They'd simply go onto Plan B if they thought there was no chance of survivors.

Natasha would be pacing like a caged tiger and driving Coulson mad. She'd be working every contact, on and off book, to try and get close to us. Coulson would be silently encouraging her, as well and trying to keep her and Jared from disappearing.

Mom and Dad would know by now that the mission went sideways. Mom would be a mess and Dad would be doing everything he could to comfort her. Despite being 25 in a few weeks, I'd never stop being her baby girl. She nearly lost Jared last year and this would be a nightmare coming back to life for both of them.

Alexi would be pestering Abby when Evans and I would be home. I could see Alexi's face right now. Her big blue eyes would be pleading to know when we'd be back. She'd be shaking her head of her unruly dark curls when Abby would tell her soon and Alexi would demand to know the exact time.

I wondered if Coulson would let Laura know. Despite all the shit going on between her and Clint, she deserved to know that everything went sideways. She needed to prepare herself to tell Lila and Cooper the worst news possible. I could see Lila and Cooper, both getting older now and not placated by any bullshit excuses anymore. The move had been hard on them and not getting any easier as time went by. I couldn't imagine them having to be in a world without their Dad.

I looked over at Clint through my teary vision. I remember Natasha telling me a lifetime ago that out of all of us, Clint had to most to lose. That I should always pick him over anything else. No matter what.

'You are strong. You are brave and you are the most incredible woman I know. You can do anything you put your mind to. I believe in you.'

Riley's voice echoed in my mind. He'd tell me that every single time I had doubts about when I couldn't do something. It was his little mantra to me when I felt like I'd never catch up with Natasha and Clint. The memory of him was still so clear, even after all this time. The words were usually said in the darkness of our room as we lay cuddled up in bed. Those words always helped. They gave me hope and made me pick myself up again and try again.

A breeze drifted into the back of the Quinjet. The warm air kissed the bare skin on my arms gently. Almost like it was someone rubbing my arm reassuringly. I lifted my face from my hands and looked into the darkness.

"If you really are watching over us Riley, I could do with a kick up the ass right about now," I whispered into the quiet night.

The warm breeze reached my face, drying the tear tracks on my face. I closed my eyes, thinking back to how Riley would cup my face and brush my tears away with his thumbs. It gave me a small measure of peace at the memory. If Jared was right and Riley really did send him back, at least I'd be seeing Riley again soon.

All of a sudden, it felt like a jolt of electricity went through my body. Every ache and pain was gone as my body went on high alert. Half a second later, I heard the sound of a vehicle coming towards us. All previous thoughts were gone as my training kicked in. I had a P30 out and pointed at the back of the Quinjet. I shifted carefully until I could grab a hold of Clint's hand. I made us both invisible and sat waiting.

It didn't take long for the car to reach us. The old Jeep's headlights were blinding as they shone into the back of the Quinjet. Voices in French reached my ears the two of the doors opened and slammed shut on the car.

"This is a waste of time," the man coming from the driver's side grumbled in strangely accented French. "The pilots are dead. No one could have survived that."

"One of the prisoners thinks otherwise." The other guy replied, sounding bored as they made their way to the Quinjet. "Besides, it gives us something to do. The SHIELD teams that escaped are pinned down against the mountain. All the boss is doing now is fucking with them and waiting for SHIELD to negotiate to get their prisoners back. Or drop the rest of them out of the sky with another EMP when they try and mount a rescue. Either way, SHIELD will be off our backs."

Whoever these two were obviously weren't shy about letting anyone know what was happening. It was a blessing, now I knew some of our guys were alive. That new piece of information gave me a surge of energy and hope. I wasn't alone out here after all.

The two men walked into the Quinjet, rifles dangling by their side. They were so casual in the way they walked, kicking debris out of the way as they went. I waited until they were past me before I sprung into action.

I unholstered the P30 and jumped to my feet in one swift action. I didn't hesitate as I closed the gap between the one closest to me. As soon as I was close enough, I raised the gun and squeezed the trigger. The sound of it going off was near deafening in the confined space. The guy didn't have a chance to turn around and see the bullet coming from him. It landed at the base of his skull with a sickening crack. I didn't have time to wince at my eardrums hurt. I was already on the other guy. I had the gun to the back of his head before he had time to turn around fully.

"Don't move," I commanded in French. To his credit, the guy stilled instantly and put his hands up. I reached forward and unclipped the AR15 from his shoulder harness, throwing it out of reach. "How far are we from the village?"

"Two miles," He ground out through his funny accented French. "You are supposed to be dead."

"I'm not that easy to kill. One wrong move and you will be though." I pressed the P30 into the back of his head harder. "How many SHIELD agents did you take prisoner?"

Sweat was pouring off this guy. He stank of weeks of not washing. The body odor up close was enough to make me want to gag.

"11."

Shit. That was worse than I expected. The Alpha Team had 20 guys and Bravo team only had 17 all up. They'd lost over a quarter of their forces.

"Good." I released the pressure of the P30 ever so slightly. "Where are the rest of them?"

"In the biggest building against the mountain with the civilians," the guy said through his gritted teeth. "We have the entire town blockaded. There is no getting in or out without the proper codes. The Jeep won't do you much good either. It only has enough gas for about 10 miles."

There goes one of my plans. It seemed that Aldon either didn't trust his own men or they were running low on supplies as well. The second scenario would make sense if they'd taken prisoners. Aldon probably thought he could trade the prisoners for supplies with SHIELD. Unfortunately, SHIELD wouldn't negotiate.

"You're being very cooperative." My mind shifted to why this man was helping me. This could be nothing but a decoy until something else happened. "Why?"

"Because." Something changed in the man's tone. "Aldon wanted me to give you hope if you were still alive that you could do something about this situation. Apparently, STRIKE Team Delta are the ones to capture and use for his own fun. I was meant to check in 30 seconds ago to let them know if you were dead or not."

He moved quickly, twisted away from the gun pointed at his head. He turned to face me with his own sidearm drawn. Good training kept mine level and steady, despite him twisting away from me. I didn't hesitate. I pulled the trigger as he moved. The bullet went through his eye and he dropped to the ground with a sickening thunk.

"Fuck." Adrenaline spurred me on. I was about to have an army raining down on me, or worse. The old Jeep was out of the question now. I was going to have to put my big girl pants on and run for our lives.

I bent down where Clint was still slumped against the wall. I threw his limp body over my shoulder and heaved with every bit of strength I had. He felt impossibly heavy but somehow I managed to get myself upright again. The first few steps were the hardest. Every single one of them felt like I was going to go tumbling to the ground.

"You've got this." I coached myself, squeezing my eyes shut for a second. I'd made it to the back of the Quinjet. Stepping out into the open air felt like I was about step off the edge of a cliff. I took in a deep breath and concentrated. Right now I was glad for Clint constantly riding my ass about practicing with my powers all the time. The practice would be the only thing that would save our lives. Like a well-used muscle, the invisibility slid over me. It wasn't a moment too soon. Voices carried through the quiet night air. This time I couldn't understand the language.

I didn't wait for them to appear. My legs were moving and this time they managed to hold the weight of Clint over my shoulders. I wouldn't be able to go forever, but I moved as quickly as I could while I still had the strength.

It was so dark out here. The small village was completely shrouded in darkness. I could only make out the buildings if I gazed at them long and hard. There was no moon tonight. It was done on purpose to make a surprise attack easier. Right now, it wasn't making my life any easier. The terrain was rocky and I nearly went to my knees a few times as slowly made my way through the darkness.

My breath came out in wheezing pants as I struggled along. My ribs started to throb with every step I took. My back ached with the weight of Clint and the awkward angle I was having to hold him on. But I kept shuffling along in a funny gait crossed between a walk and run. The closer I got, the more I could see and hear the situation in front of us.

A small city of tents had been set up on the road into the village. Some of the mud houses looked to be occupied by whatever forces Aldon had. One of the larger buildings on the outskirts was a hive of activity. Even from my position I could hear and see men coming in and out of there. It looked to be the only building with any form of light too. The windows were shaded, but tiny cracks of artificial light peeked out from one of the windows. In this darkness, it stood out clearly. Every so often there was a short burst of gunfire. It was coming where the mercenary had said my teams were pinned down. Along with the gunfire, there was often the sharp crack of a high caliber rifle being fired. The outer perimeter of the village was being held down by groups of 3 at every opening. Some of them looked well trained and ready for anything. Other groups looked like men who were bored and not paying attention.

I managed to slide past one of the groups not paying attention. They were lounging against one of the small mud-brick houses, chatting away rapidly in an Arabic sounding language. My back and legs were ready to give up on me as I found a deserted house with the door half hanging off it. It was a tight fit to get Clint and I in there without disturbing the door. It was perfect timing. As I got through the opening, a group of men went jogging past the house. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but they were headed in the direction of where I thought the STRIKE teams would be.

The house was 2 rooms, separated by a ragged piece of fabric hanging down. My body couldn't handle the weight any longer. I shuffled into the other room. It was pitch black in here. There was only a tiny window near the ceiling which did nothing to let any kind of light in. I cautiously moved around until my legs came into contact with something solid. I bent down to grope the surface of whatever it was I'd run into. If was soft and felt like a bed. Gingerly, I shifted Clint and lowered him down onto the bed. My back muscles screamed in protest at the movement but the rest of my body was thankful to be free of his weight. As I set him down, I bent over the bed panting like I'd run a marathon. It felt like there wasn't a part of my body that didn't ache. I could feel bruises from where Clint's quiver and the CheyTac had both dug into me. My head throbbed, my ribs ached and my poor back was never going to be the same again. My tired legs gave way and I slid down to the floor next to the bed. My invisibility was gone without any effort from me. I was so damn tired.

In the darkness, I groped around until I found Clint's hand. Even though he didn't grip back, lacing my fingers through his gave me a small comfort. It was so dark in here. I could barely see two feet in front of me. Outside the noises of people moving around were muffled. Every so often bursts of automatic gunfire would cut through the air. Every time it would make me jump. It was far away enough that I knew we weren't in danger. Not yet anyway.

I couldn't stay here forever. I already knew that. If I had a better understanding of the enemy's layout, I'd take Clint's bow and cause some chaos. But with them holding prisoners, I could be unintentionally hurting our own guys. My best course of action was to head for the building where the rest of the teams would be.

As I sat there slumped against the wall trying to muster the strength to get up again, a noise cut through the quiet building. It was loud enough to make me jump. It took my tired brain a second to process what it was.

"No."

The word coming from Clint was quiet and muffled. His fingers closed around mine suddenly in a crushing grip. I winced as I felt the joints of my fingers make cracking noises under the pressure.

"Clint." I reached over and gripped his arm hard, giving him a good shake. No pressure on my hand continued until it was unbearably uncomfortable. Any harder and Clint was going to break all of my fingers.

"Hey." I tried again, digging my fingers into his arm hard. "Come on, wake up."

"Barney, no."

The breath stopped in my chest at Clint's next muffled words. I knew the basics about his brother, Barney. Clint had caught him stealing from the circus where they were raised. Barney had stabbed Clint in retaliation and it'd had nearly killed him. Physically and mentally. Clint never spoke about Barney and as far as I knew, he considered his brother to be dead to him. Whatever nightmare Clint was going through now couldn't be pretty.

"Barney's not here," I said, feeling completely useless. "It's Kari. Come on Clint, please wake up."

"Barney, stop. Please."

The next plea that left his lips was louder than before. The words ripped my heart from my chest as Clint pleaded with a ghost of his past.

"Clint." I dug my fingers into his arm even harder than before. "Please, Barney's gone. He's not here. It's Kari."

Clint's entire body tensed. It was my only warning as his other hand came flying at me in a fist. In the darkness, I didn't see it until too late. The blow landed squarely on my jaw, knocking me off balance. I landed on the hard ground with a strangled cry of my own. Clint could pack a wallop and his blow made me see stars. Blood filled my mouth as I lay in a crumpled heap. The side of my face felt like someone had just smashed me with a brick. I spat out my mouthful of blood, putting my hand to my jaw. That was going to leave a big bruise.

A groan of utter distress was far too loud for our quiet hiding spot. I sprung to my feet and launched myself into Clint's body. I covered his mouth with my hand, pressing down hard to muffle the next sound from him. As soon as my hand touched his mouth, Clint started to trash underneath me. His arms were free, flailing around and I earned another smack in the face for my troubles. This one wasn't as hard, but it was on the same spot as before. It sent my head reeling again which was enough for Clint to get me off him.

"You can't make me talk," Clint's words were slurred as he struggled on the bed. "I'll die before I talk."

What the fuck was this about? I threw myself back onto the bed, this time pinning Clint's arms to the bed with my legs and I straddled his body. I grabbed his face between my hands. He struggled wildly against my meager weight trying to keep him pinned down.

"It's Kari, come on Clint, come back to me," I pleaded, feeling my throat start to close up as I struggled to keep him from lashing out again. Tears gathered at the corner of my eyes at feeling my best friend fighting against his worst nightmare. "Where ever you are, it isn't real. I'm here, I'm real."

In a moment of inattentiveness, I felt some ice crystals gather on my hands as I struggled with my own emotions. The freezing cold touch made Clint still against me. His entire body went rigid under my touch. I quickly pulled my hands away, shaking the ice crystals off them in his moment of minor cooperation. As soon as my hands were normal again, I put them back on his face, leaning down until we were resting our foreheads against each other.

"There you go," I said shakily. "Stay with me here. I promise I'll get us out of here."

There was no response. I didn't expect there to be but there was a small part of me that really wanted to. One word would have been better than the silence from him now. At least I'd found out in his struggles that most of his limbs seemed to be working. It was a small mercy that at least he wasn't paralyzed.

Clint was still rigid underneath me but didn't make any further move to lash out. I relaxed against him, moving my legs until I was simply straddling him instead of pinning him down. I could feel my body shaking again him as I lent down and hugged him.

"We're going to stay here for a few minutes," I said, my voice muffled against his shoulder. "Then we'll start moving again. Sound good?"

I had no idea why I was still talking. Clint wouldn't be able to hear me and he wasn't showing any signs of waking up. It was a waste of breath but it was keeping me as calm as someone could be in this situation. I closed my eyes, taking in a few deep breaths to get my racing heart under control. I had to stay calm and focus. Only then would we get out of here. My heart finally slowed back to a normal pace and my tense body relaxed, one muscle at a time. Underneath me, Clint seemed to relax as well. Time seemed so irrelevant in the dark room. It could have been minutes or hours. I had no way of telling. My watch was missing and Clint's was smashed beyond recognition. All I could go by was the steady rise and fall of Clint's chest.

The sound of boots outside made my eyes fly open. I hadn't realized I'd closed them in the first place. It had been such a sudden movement that jerked me out of the quiet moment. Whispered voices carried across the quiet night. Some of it was a language I didn't know, but the English stood out easily.

"They can't have gone far," the clipped English was tinged with an unusual accent. "Spread out, search every house. The boss really wants these two."

My mouth went dry and my heart started to pound again at the realization we were going to have to move sooner rather than later. Whoever these men who, I really hoped they didn't have any infrared. We'd be fucked if that was the case. I unfolded my stiff limbs and carefully climbed off Clint. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the knife from my belt. If it came to it, I needed to make this as quiet as possible. I gripped Clint's hand in my free hand willing my tired body to go invisible again.

Time slowed down as the sound of booted feet came closer. I squeezed Clint's hand harder as the footsteps got louder. A few muffled sounds and the crash of the door being kicked in echoed around the quiet room as the enemy entered our house. I held my breath as torches lit up the room behind the ragged piece of fabric. There was only one set of boots searching this house. He seemed unconcerned about being heard as he stomped around. The torches seemed to search every inch of the other room before someone yanked down the fabric separating the rooms.

It was terrifying to sit here with a light pointing straight at me. I knew they couldn't see me but it still felt like an eternity before the light shone away from our corner. The man walked into the room, shining his torch around every corner. He walked over to the bed, scarcely an inch away from where I was sitting. Up close, his weathered, tanned face had a bored expression.

"Clear in here." His accent was thick. The English words sounded clumsy coming out of his mouth. Whoever he was calling to wouldn't have been too far away. Even though he sounded loud to me up close. He would have only raised his voice loud enough as if the person he was talking to was across a room from him.

He kicked the edge of the bed, making the structure rattle underneath me. The bed felt like it was going to collapse from the abuse. Thankfully the old wood held steady and the man searching our room turned away. He made it to the door in a few strides. I was about to let out the breath I'd been holding as he walked away when a noise from the bed sounded very loud in the room. It was Clint again.

"No."

The distinctive word cut through the silent room. The man whipped around in surprise, gun already raised with the light shining directly on me.

Adrenaline made my aching legs work as I sprung up from the bed. I lost my invisibility and the comical look of fright on the others man's face would have been funny in any other circumstance. In his surprise, the grip on his rifle loosened and it dropped to his side. I took advantage on his moment of hesitation and closed the gap between us in 2 long strides. My knife found the underside of his jaw as I drove it straight through his windpipe. Six inches of steel cut through the skin and muscle before hitting bone at the base of his skull.

The man's hands flew up to claw at his neck, his eyes now wide in shock and horror as the life drained out of him in seconds. He gave one gasping choke and that was it. He went limp and fell to the ground a moment later. The momentum of him falling let me pull the knife out easily. There was no time to stand there in the growing pool of blood and look at what I'd done. I had to get moving.

I ran back to the bed and knelt down beside it. Manoeuvring Clint to the edge of the bed took every ounce of my strength. The sound of a name being called gave me a spurt of adrenaline, enough to get Clint back over my shoulder and to my feet. My legs threatened to give out on me in the first few steps. Even in the cool air, I could feel the sweat pouring off me as I strained to get moving and maintain my invisibility again. I made it out of the front door just as a group of men came jogging down the road, still calling the name from before.

There was no time to waste. I had to get back to what was left of the STRIKE teams. I couldn't see the exact location through the maze of the close mud brick buildings. The black night sky had tinges of pink start to break through the blackness. Dawn wouldn't be too far off and I'd lose the advantage of the night to stay hidden. I couldn't stay invisible forever. I could feel my strength draining with every shuffling step I took. Clint's weight felt impossibly heavy and it was sheer determination keeping us upright. The only good thing at the moment as I was too focused on keeping us moving to be scared shitless.

Instead of heading in the direction where I thought the STRIKE teams were, I made a lengthy detour heading back towards the enemy instead of away from it, As much as my body was screaming at me with every step, I knew I had to do it. I could hear the increased activity all around me as I shuffled between houses, trying to keep off the path as much as possible. The enemy would be doing everything they could now to cut me off from getting back to our team. It was a long journey. As soon as I got within sight of the enemy's base, I zig-zagged back towards the opposite end of town. From here I could see the house I was told about. The two-story building was set against the mountain. The grey morning light wasn't helping to see any activity in the distance. At least I had an idea of where to go now.

I only got a few feet down the road when I hit a rock and staggered for a few feet. The brief moment of distraction made me lose the invisibility hiding both of us. In that one terrifying moment, I heard voices shouting. I had the invisibility back over us within seconds and took off running as fast as I could. Bullets snapped through the air, pinging off the buildings around me. Every ache was forgotten as I did a sharp right turn and started to zigzag my way through the buildings. I'd been made now. This was about to turn into the ultimate game of cat and mouse.

I really didn't like being the mouse. I was going to have to turn the tables and become the cat.

Voices shouted all around me. I could hear men pursuing me through the narrow twists and turns of the mud buildings. It wasn't a big village but there were plenty of small buildings grouped together with narrow laneways between them. I found the first building with the door open and ran inside. Luck was on my side again. The building had another 2 rooms off the one I'd come through. It also had a back door, giving me a very solid idea of what to do next. I went into the first one and found it to be another bedroom. I dumped Clint on the bed and unslung his bow. I had an idea on how to get rid of some men in a very big hurry. It was also going to create a big explosion and a lot of noise. I was going to have to run for our lives if this worked out the way I wanted it to.

I pulled off Clint's quiver as well and opened one of the compartments. Clint didn't have his trick quiver this time. It would be useless for me as I didn't know the right combinations on it. He did keep a good collection of his different arrow tips though. His favorite explosive ones were in front of his spares compartment. I sent a mental thank you to Dad as I changed the arrowheads. They were his design and they could be done within seconds. Even with my shaking hands, I had two arrows ready to go in 30 seconds. Before I could second guess my plan, I grabbed the bow and stepped into the main room.

There was always a moment of awkwardness as I used Clint's left-handed bows. He was an ambidextrous shooter but understandably favored his left. He always used his left-handed ones on missions even though he was just as deadly right-handed. Clint never checked the bows he brought to practice so I'd learned to shoot with a left-handed one as well over the months. I could manage it well enough that I had the confidence I wasn't going to miss now.

The voices and footsteps got louder as I notched the first arrow. I closed my eyes as I felt the weight on the string. The other arrow hung loosely in my left hand so I could have it ready to shoot near instantly. I'd done this a million times in practice. What I was about to do was no different from shooting at targets at the end of the archery range. I took in a few long and deep breaths to calm myself. Shaking hands and adrenaline would do me no favors right now. When my hands were steady I stepped back out into the open and drew the bow as I went.

With no finger guards on, the bowstring cut into my fingers. My shoulders and back protested at the heavy draw weight as my hand came back towards my ear. It was a minor inconvenience now that would no doubt haunt me later. In the grey dawn, I could see a group of five men heading towards me. They all stopped dead at the sight of me with an arrow. Without a second of hesitation, I loosed the arrow.

The black fletched arrow sailed through the air straight and true. The men didn't have time to scramble for cover. It wouldn't help them anyway. It hit the leading man squaring in the chest. With a resounding beep, the explosive tip went off.

I had no idea how powerful those little suckers actually were. The resulting explosion sent up a small fireball into the dawn sky. The men around him screamed as they were engulfed in the flames. The smell of burning flesh and singed hair filled the air. If I hadn't been so focused on the next shot, I'm sure would have been on the ground throwing up. I didn't stand by to watch the chaos, I spun in the opposite direction and rapidly notched the next arrow. The group of men coming from that direction were trying to beat a hasty retreat. Unluckily for them, arrows flew faster than most people could run. The second arrow struck someone's back and the same thing happened as before. I was never going to be able to smell barbecued meat ever again without seeing this moment.

With speed and strength, I didn't realize I still had, I was back into the room I put Clint in. The bed was higher than normal making it easier to get Clint back up and over my shoulder. The adrenaline was still pumping which was a small blessing now. I was invisible and heading out of the house in what felt like seconds. As I got a few feet from the door, another group of men came sprinting down the street and straight into the still open back door. I'd made it out with only seconds to spare.

The problem with adrenaline was that it never lasted as long as you needed it for. I only managed to cover about a hundred feet and three turns of direction before my body started to give up again. My back was in spasms from the weight of Clint. Every single breath felt like a fire was being started in my chest. I could hear the wheezing breaths echoing through my head, knowing it didn't sound quite right. My left hand felt wet and I could barely open the fingers to assess the damage. At least I knew the damage there. Without the years of callous' Clint had, I'd no doubt sliced my fingers on the bowstring. I only made it another five steps before my legs threatened to give way on me again. I ducked into the first available house and had no sooner made it to the door when my legs finally gave up.

Clint and I fell to the floor in a very undignified heap. I managed to stay up on my hands and knees, struggling to get my breath back. I knew I couldn't stay here. Despite the small size of this town, all the twists and turns I was having to take kept putting me further away from my intended target. I was getting closer. By the speed, I was traveling at and the way my body was starting to give up on me, it may as well have been a hundred miles away. I was starting to run out of options. I was going to have to make a run for it straight there. If I didn't, Clint and I were going to be captured or dead.

My legs protested heavily at the attempt to get to my feet. It took me three goes before my shaking limbs cooperated and I was upright again. I grabbed Clint by the arm and heaved with what little strength I had left. It took a moment before he started to budge. I felt terrible for dragging him along the ground. There was no way I could lift him right now though. This building was nothing more than a room. The small amount of furniture in here was destroyed and it looked like somebody had thoroughly ransacked the place. The only thing left standing and not destroyed was a sturdy looking table that was about knee height on me. I needed to get Clint off the ground so I could pick him up again when I made our final run.

It took a lot of shoving to get Clint into a sitting position against the table. I stood on the table and hooked my arms under his and pulled him up onto the table. The leverage made it easy enough to get him up. Clint would probably hate me for the number of bruises I was going to leave on him. It was better bruised than dead though.

"I'll be back," I whispered to his unconscious form sprawled over the table. "I promise."

There wasn't even a twitch from him. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, as it had been for the last fuck knows how long. His lack of any signs of conciseness was really starting to gnaw at my mind. I couldn't contemplate on it too much longer though. Even now I could hear someone getting close to us. They weren't trying to be quiet at all. The voices in what sounded like Farsi carried through the air loudly enough. I took the CheyTac and Clint's bow off my back. I'd need all the speed I could get right now.

Going invisible, I went to the front of the building and slipped out of the door. Every ache and tired part of my body disappeared again as I went into the open air. It was getting hot now. The sun was over the horizon and beating down mercilessly despite the early hour. My boots barely made a sound on the dusty path. A second later a group of mercenaries came around the corner. It was a group of 4. They were all on high alert, AK-47's raised as they picked along the path. Even at a glance, I could tell they were well trained. Unlucky for them, I was trained by Black Widow and Hawkeye. This was going to be quick and silent.

Everything came down into a narrow focus as I stalked towards them. A few feet away, I picked up a rock and threw it against a house opposite us. The effect was instant, they all spun on their heels and changed direction. I was upon the guy bringing up the rear in three footsteps. I drove my knife into the back of his neck, severing his spinal cord in one swift movement. He dropped with a muffled thud on the ground. The momentum of his body tipping forward was enough to pull the knife back out in one clean movement.

The mercenary in front of him half turned at the sound of his colleague hitting the ground. It was enough for me to grab his head and drive my knife into his jugular, yanking it across his neck. He fell to the ground as soon as my grip released, clawing at the gaping wound on his neck. The sound of him choking on his own blood got the attention of the other two.

Both of them shouted out and raised their guns in my direction. I darted out of the way, coming in behind them. They cautiously took a few steps forward, talking hurriedly between the two of them. The one on the left toed at the still convulsing guy whose throat I'd just slit. He wasn't quite dead yet. He was still clawing at his throat, desperately trying to suck oxygen into his body. It was sloppy on my behalf. I hadn't cut deep enough to make him bleed out within seconds and now he was choking to death on his own blood as well as suffocating from lack of oxygen.

I took advantage of the mercenary on the left being momentarily distracted by the dying man. My knife found the back of his neck as well. Only this time I pushed it too hard and the blade got stuck. The momentum of him tipping forward caught me off balance and for a horrible, long second I thought I was about to lose my invisibility. The remaining mercenary spun on his heel and without hesitation opened fire.

I let the weight of the falling body pull me down. I hit the ground hard but managed to stay invisible. The shooting from the remaining mercenary stopped as quickly as it came on. He raised his hand to his ear and started speaking rapidly in Farsi. I had to act quickly otherwise I was going to have a small army swarming down on me.

I rolled away and sprung back up onto my feet. I didn't have time to yank my knife out and an idea sprung to my head. Before I could second guess my plan, I pounced on the mercenary. I kicked out at his knee as hard as my body would let me. The extra legwork in the gym paid off in that moment as his knee snapped out from underneath him with an audible crunch. He shouted in pain as he fell to one knee, clutching at the injured joint. His AK-47 dropped from his grip giving me a precious few seconds to end this before I become a bullet-riddled corpse. I stepped around him and pulled his neck into a sleeper hold with one hand resting against his head as I let go of my invisibility. I'd need all the concentration I got get to do this.

Clint theory of being able to use the body's natural fluids against them had sprung into my head. I was about to find out if it was true.

My power fanned out and I could feel it take over as it shot through the mercenaries body. He stiffened against me a few seconds later. His body went cold and hard under my touch. I let go and kicked the frozen corpse away from my body. He landed on the ground with a thunk. Bile rose in my throat as I stared at the frozen body in front of me. I'd never consciously killed anyone with my cryokinesis before. It was scary how quickly that just happened.

There was no time to stand there and stare at the four dead bodies. I put my foot on the last guy I'd stabbed back and tugged the knife free of the bone it got stuck in. His body twitched under my foot, pushing the bile up my throat even further. There was no stopping it. I bent over and vomited what little I had in my stomach. It was gone as quickly as it came on. I straightened up and wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt. My hands were coated in blood right now and still had a few ice crystals hanging off them. I shook my hands, clearing the ice crystals and pulled my thoughts back together. I couldn't stay here. I cleared the path for Clint and I to get to where the rest of the teams were and I had to move. Now.

Clint was still sprawled out on the table when I went back into the room. Ignoring my blood covered and shaking hands, I quickly put our weapons back on and braced myself for the next part. I rolled Clint onto his side and crouched down so I could put him over my shoulder again. He felt even heavier than last time as I straightened back up with a strangled groan.

"You're going on a fucking diet when we get back Barton. No more crack cookies, no matter how much I beg you to make them," I said as I shifted him in the fireman's hold. My back was protesting, even more, this time and every step made Clint feel 100 pounds heavier than the last. It was a struggle to go invisible again and took me 3 goes before I could hang onto it. It was only with a lot of concentration I managed to hold onto it. I closed my eyes taking in long deep breaths before stepping out into the open once again. I could do this. I had to do this.

I broke out into baking hot morning, half running and half limping along. If I stopped now, I'd never get moving again. I came upon the building where I thought the STRIKE were. It was unmistakable the big house against the mountain. As I reached the door, gunfire opened up again from behind me. I could hear distinct American voices coming in there, along with plenty of other noise. Along with returning gunfire, people were calling out orders. There was what sounded like crying women in there as well. This had to be it.

I ran across the open ground as fast as my aching legs and back would carry me. As I got to the side entrance, I gave the door a shove. It was firmly stuck.

"Friendly!" I yelled out as loud as I dared too, pounding on the thick wood. "Evans, Rumlow or someone open the fucking door!"

Even though I was invisible, the sound of my voice drew the gunfire to me. I had no choice but to drop Clint, rather unceremoniously, on the ground. I threw my hands up in front of me and let the ice fan out again. I was visible again but my wall of ice came up in time to hear the first bullet ping off it harmlessly. Bullets seemed to cascade down on me after that. I fought to keep it from shattering. Time slowed down as something hit it with a lot more force than a 39mm bullet from an AK-47. Whatever it was shattered my shield into a million pieces at my feet. The resounding crack of a sniper rifle echoed through the air a second later. Of course, they had a fucker sniper. I closed my eyes, waiting for the follow-up shot to come. I was a sitting duck here. Nothing was going to stop the round from a sniper rifle going through me. Whoever it was, I really hoped they were going for a clean shot. I didn't want to feel the moment I died.

Something grabbed the back of my collar and gave me a solid yank. I was dragged across the ground for a few paces and the door was slammed before I could process what happened. My eyes snapped opened as I looked up at whoever had dragged me in.

"Fuck, it's a good thing your skinny," Nick from Bravo team was bent over at the waist, breathing heavily. "That was close."

Clint was next to me on his back with one of the Alpha team boys bent over him.

"How long has he been out?" He asked me sharply.

"Since I woke up after the Quinjet crashed." I was completely breathless. My throat felt like it was stuck together and I was suddenly aware of how thirsty I suddenly was. "He hasn't been conscious since."

"How did you get him here?" Nick asked.

"Carried him."

Both of them snapped their heads in my direction with a look of shock.

"He's got 100 pounds on you," Nick said, sounding a little awed. "You crashed miles away. How the fuck did you manage that?"

I shook my head. I really had no idea how I'd done it. I kept moving because otherwise, we'd be dead. My back was going to hate me for the rest of my life. At least we were safe. For now.

"Evans is going to want a sitrep," Nick continued when I didn't speak. He held his hand out to me in a silent support. "He's upstairs with Rumlow."

I nodded this time, not trusting myself to have enough breath to speak. I took Nick's hand and let him haul me to my feet. My legs shook and threatened to buckle underneath of me. Nick's firm hold kept me steady until my legs decided to stay upright. Nick's eyes went down to my blood covered hands.

"Not mine," I said before he could ask. I discreetly kept my left hand hidden from view. "Ran into trouble on the way here."

Nick didn't ask me to explain. He simply squeezed my hand in a silent support and inclined his head towards the back of the building. He took the lead and I followed him through the house. Unlike the rest of the town, this was the double story. It looked well made and well kept unlike everything else. The house was dark with most of the window openings being covered up by furniture, acting as a barricade. There was no safe way of having shooters in the windows. It would be too easy to have them picked off by a few well-placed shots. This was a siege and something that wasn't planned for. As we passed through the hallway I could see people huddled together in the rooms off it. Some of the other rooms had people laid out on whatever they could find, civilian and STRIKE personal. I didn't ask Nick for details. He was in too much of a hurry to get up the stairs.

We came up to the first room at the top of the stairs. Nick pushed the door open without knocking. In the room, Evans and Rumlow looked up. Both were covered in grime and blood. Evans was leaning on the table heavily and Rumlow was holding a blood soaked field bandage to his left side. When they saw me, both of them looked like they'd seen a ghost.

"Agent Lyngley here for her sitrep," I said tiredly. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Kari." Evans was the first to recover. He crossed the few steps between us and pulled me into a tight hug. I could barely breathe in his embrace but right now that didn't matter. He was alive and so was I. My eyes squeezed shut as I hugged him back. I'd made it.

"Barton?" Rumlow asked, breaking up the moment between Evans and I.

"Alive," I said wearily, reluctantly untangling myself from Evans embrace. "Unconscious but alive. We both are."

The last part was said to reassure myself more than anything else. I hadn't died on the way here. I'd never be able to explain how I managed to carry Clint all the way back here. The will to survive could make you do things you never thought possible. I was never going to complain about doing arms day at the gym ever again.

Rumlow opened his mouth to say something when the sound of someone whistling cut through the air. I thought I could whistle loudly but whoever this was taking it to ear piercing levels.

"SHIELD!" The man had a strange accent. It sounded French mixed with something else. "We have come to negotiate. The lives of some of your men in exchange for the mutant girl."

Evans and Rumlow looked at me with a mixture of horror and grim determination crossing their faces.

"Stay here," Evans ordered firmly before I could say anything. "Look out the window."

There was one small window above my eye height. There was a table pushed up against the wall tall enough to be able to see out of it. I nodded, not wanting to argue in what was about to be a very delicate situation. Evans and Rumlow took my confirmation and both bolted from the room. Evans was limping heavily but it didn't seem to deter him from where ever they were going.

I climbed up on the small table and went invisible before peeking through the small window. I didn't need to become a perfect target for a sniper, not after everything I'd just been through. In front of the house was a force of about 30 men. In front of them was the man who'd been identified as Aldon's second in command, Khalil Sidi. The distinguishing scar on the side of his face gave away his identity. While Aldon was a ghost, Khalil was one every international agencies shit list. He was wanted for genocide, torture and a laundry list of other charges, mostly all crimes against humanity.

Two black clad figures were pushed forward in front of the crowd. Both of the STRIKE men were forced down to their knees, hands laced behind their heads. The one on the right was Gibson from Alpha team. He looked to be in bad shape. He could barely keep himself upright, his body noticeably swaying. The second one was a brown-haired figure with a set jaw, one that I knew far too well. All the breath in my body left in an audible whoosh as I stared into his face.

It was Sam.

Khalil pulled a pistol from his belt. Without a second of hesitation, he shot Gibson in the back of the head execution style.

I wasn't the only one to have to muffle back a scream as Gibson fell to the ground. My hand flew to my mouth to stop any other sound coming out as I couldn't tear my eyes away from the lifeless body on the ground. I'd only been joking with Gibson on the range a few days ago. Now he was on the ground with his brain scattered through the dirt.

"It's his turn next." Khalil turned to Sam, pressing the pistol into the back of his head. Sam closed his eyes, visibly flinching as the weapon against his head. I could see Sam's chest heaving in panicked breaths. "I'm going to count to 60 before I blow his brains over the ground. One."

I lost all ability to breathe as I stared out of the window.

"Two."

The second number jolted me into action. I dumped the CheyTac, quiver and bow off my back. There was no point in me rushing in there shooting people. I'd only get Sam killed. I knelt down, fuming around in Clint's arrowhead compartment until I found what I needed. One of his tips doubled as a grenade if needed. I was out of the room before I could second guess myself. I made it out of the room and to the top of the stairs before a strong hand closed around my arm and yanked me to a standstill. It was Rumlow. He'd lost all color in his face and his mouth opened to say something.

"Cover me," I cut him off. My voice was a lot braver than I was currently feeling. "You told me once you trusted me. Do it now."

Rumlow looked so conflicted. The voice of Khalid outside kept coming with his ominous counting. When he hit twenty, Rumlow's grip on my arm loosened.

"Go."

I didn't need to be told twice.

Authors Note

And off we go!

I can't thank everyone enough for the reviews on the last chapter. I know it was mean leaving it on a cliffhanger but there was no natural break for it. I do apologise for the delay in getting this one out too. I use my Saturdays at my office job to get writing done and I actually had to do some work at work the last Saturday. Rude customers interupting my writing time.

So, 500 reviews. I'm blown away by the support from everyone. I know it's a long story and a long process to write it. I still see faces in the reviews that have been with me from the start. Then there's the familiar faces that are always so kind to leave me a review on nearly every chapter. I know it sounds sappy but you all inspire me to write. When things get tough on inspiration, I go back and read my reviews. I truely do cherish every single one of them.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

Until next time.