Laughter greeted Clint and Brock as they entered the safe house. Wanda turned at the sound of their footsteps, the laughter still in her eyes, a smile still on her face.

"You're back."

"Whose that?" asked Pietro, nodding suspiciously towards Brock.

"Hey, this is Brock Rumlow. He's going to help us."

Wanda's gaze flickered to Brock and then back to Clint, who was thankful that Wanda and Pietro had seen enough in their lives that they seemed disinclined to stare at Brock's scares. He could feel Brock beside him, tense and on edge.

Brock set his bag on the floor and folded his arms. "Please tell me these two kids are not your secret plan for stopping the Asset from killing us?"

Wanda's eyes snapped back to him. Next to her Pietro muttered something to her. She smiled and then, in a flash her hand shot up. A blast of red energy sent Brock backwards. He stumbled and would have fallen but in a whoosh Pietro was beside him, catching him, and in another whoosh he was back beside Wanda.

Clint shrugged. "There's more to these two than meets the eye."

"I can see that," said Brock.

"This is Wanda, and Pietro."

"And uh, how do they do what they just do?"

"What they just did is why we need to get the scepter back."

"And he is going to help us find it?" asked Pietro, nodding to Brock.

"Kind of. He's suggested someone who should know some bases where Strucker might have gone to. The Winter Soldier."

"Who is that?" asked Wanda.

"A heavily trained Hydra assassin…ex-Hydra assassin."

"Ex, whose not going to want to go back," said Brock, taking a seat in an armchair. "And odds are that's what he'll think we're doing there. If we can track him down in the first place," he added dampingly.

"You know his training. If anyone can find him, it's you."

Brock shrugged. "He'll still clap eyes on us and assume we're there to take him back and even with these two, he's going to fight like mad. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"You're going not going to like it."

"Try me."

"You could always reactivate the programming instead."

"What do you mean?"

"There's words. It's supposed to retrigger his obedience, part of his mental reconditioning."

Clint stared for several moments. "We're not using that on him. The guy is a victim. We're not making it worse."

"I don't you, you wouldn't like it. So how exactly do you plan to get through to him then? I mean with wonder pair here you might be able to beat him in a fight. I say might. But he's still not going to trust us and he still doesn't remember what you want him to tell you."

"That's where I'm hoping Wanda comes in." Clint turned to her. "You reached into my mind and you calmed me down and then you put me to sleep."

"Yes?"

"What else can you do inside a person's head?"

She suddenly looked nervous. "What do you need?"

"There's a man whose memories have been…not wiped. We don't think. Not completely at any rate. But repressed. I don't just want to access his memories. I want to help him. If there are words in his head that Hydra can use against him, maybe we can do something about that too."

"And while we're at it, we'll end world hunger, cure cancer, and bring world peace," said Brock.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Not helping."

"You're the one that is losing sight of your own mission. Do you want the scepter or do you want to help the Asset?"

"I want to do both. He's been used by enough people. We're not adding our names to that list." He turned back to Wanda. "What can you do?"

"I…don't know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "That's not something I've really…explored very thoroughly. Getting too deep into someone else's mind…I haven't had a lot of practice. I can make some visions but…repressed memories, brainwashing…I don't know. I could…hurt someone."

Internally, Clint was screaming at himself not to say the words that were already on the tip of his tongue. But there was a mission to complete. And deep down he also knew it was more than a mission. He had to prove Fury's trust in him, and helping Barnes…Steve would want that…

"Then you practice on me."

She stared at him. "No."

"You get into my head; see how deep you can go."

"I could hurt you."

"You won't."

"You don't know that!"

"I trust you."

Tony stepped out of the elevator and into the common room, and then caught up short. He hadn't expected to find only Steve here and for a moment he considered turning around and heading back down to the lab. But two things circumstances made him pause.

One, Steve was in a suit and tie, and second, Steve was taking a clear plastic box out of the fridge and inside the box was what was unmistakably a corsage.

"Do you have a date?" he asked, curiosity winning out over the urge to leave.

Steve jumped. "Tony! I didn't hear you come in."

"Do you have a date?"

"Uh, yeah."

"And you bought her a corsage."

"Yeah?" Steve looked down at it with a frown. Tony's lips twitched. Steve must have notice because he asked, "Is there a reason why not?"

"Unless you're taking her to her homecoming dance, which if you are we have a whole other issue, people haven't really done that in several decades."

"Oh." Steve let out a long, deflated sigh.

"Where did you find one anyways?"

"I didn't. I asked Jarvis to order it."

"And he didn't tell me. What a traitor. Who's the girl?"

"Sharon Carter. She's, uh, the agent Fury assigned to keep an eye on me back in Washington. She helped us stop Project Insight."

"Carter? Well there's a coincidence of a name."

"Actually…it's not just a coincidence," said Steve, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "She's uh…Peggy's niece."

The two men stared at each other for a long minute and then both, broke into uncontrolled laughter, though Steve's was a bit more sheepish. Tony came over to the bar and poured himself a drink.

"Wow," he said, still chuckling. "You really do have a type don't you."

He leaned back against the counter, relaxed, and grinned at Steve.

Steve shook his head. "I have no idea what I'm doing." He dropped the flowers onto the counter. "I haven't been on a date since the 1940's."

"Hey," said Tony, picking back up the corsage box, "I bet the Leave it to Beaver Shtick will work with any woman who said yes to a date with you."

"I don't get that reference."

"You should. I'm willing to bet that show would be right up your alley. But what I'm trying to say is, she'll probably like the flowers. She'll think it corny and cute and probably end up swept off her feet." He handed the box back to Steve. "What's the date plans?"

"Taking her to dinner. There's a place in Brooklyn that's been open since I was a kid. I went there once with B-…a friend. Normally though, couldn't afford it. But…I remember the food being great. I wanted to see if it still was. See the old neighborhood."

Tony's curiosity peaked. "Couldn't afford it?"

"I grew up pretty poor, Tony."

"How poor?"

Steve shrugged. "I used to wear newspapers in my shoes?"

Tony contemplated this, took a swig of his drink, and said, "That is incredibly depressing and I am buying you more shoes tomorrow."

Steve laughed. "Thank you Tony, but I have enough shoes now."

"Pepper would have told me you can't fix everything with money."

"She'd have been right….but you can fix shoes with it."

Tony chuckled, and then said more soberly: "I guess we haven't really talked about your childhood very much."

"It's not like we've talked much about yours either."

"No. I guess not." Tony set the drink down. "Must have been hard though, growing up like that."

"I had a couple of good people in my life. My mom. And-" Steve cut off sharply.

"Barnes," Tony finished for him.

Steve let out a deep sigh. "Yeah. Barnes."

There was a long, still silence. Tony was the one who finally broke the silence. "You don't want to be late for your date."

"Oh…right. Yeah."

"How are you getting there?"

"Jarvis is going to call me a cab."

"Forget the cab. Happy's on duty tonight. He'll drive you in the limo."

"That's not necessary."

"Trust me on this. Picking up a girl in a limo: always a great first move. Happy will be ready by the time you reach the garage."

"Thanks Tony."

"No problem."

There was a murmur of voices coming from the living room as Clint washed his hands in the bathroom sink. His hands were shaking. In another minute he'd have to go back out there, and he couldn't allow Wanda to see his fear. But the thought of allowing someone into his head…

He knew, intellectually he knew, he could trust her. She couldn't abuse what he was offering her. She wouldn't use and twist and turn him like Loki, even if that was within her capabilities. And who knew, it might be. But knowing he was safe in her hands was a long way from feeling it.

Clint clinched his fists as the water poured over them and focused on breathing, deep in, deep out.

You have to do this, she needs to practice, she needs to know what she can do. Then we can find Barnes. We can help him. He can tell us where the bases are. He'll go back to Steve and we get the scepter for Fury. You have to do this. You owe this to them.

He raised his head and stared into the mirror. He didn't like what he saw. But then he hadn't liked what he'd seen for a long time. He shook his head, trying to shake away the thoughts creeping through it, but there was still something twisted in his gut. Terror? Trauma? Who knew. And it didn't matter.

Brock was right. He didn't deserve all he'd gotten away with.

So letting Wanda into his head to help Fury, to help Steve, to help Barnes, well, it was far less than he deserved.

He shut off the water, stretched, and willed his hands to still.