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Chapter 17

Hawkeye Takes Charge

Avengers Mansion

Steve awoke with no lingering weakness from earlier. He took it as a good sign. He was shocked to see it was nearly one in the morning. This sleeping for hours on end was perhaps the most disturbing change brought about by the illness. He could gut the pain, he could even deal with everyone's well-meaning sympathy and doting (excruciating at times, but bearable). But this sleep thing was another matter. Time was becoming an increasingly precious commodity and he was going to have to do a better job of managing it. Steve didn't own an alarm clock, never really needed one. Even as a boy, he could always depend on his own internal body clock. If he needed to awake at a certain time, he just did. Those days seemed to be over. He now needed more sleep, and his body was taking it when it could get it.

As he sat up, something fell from the bed. It was Sir Richard's book. It reminded Steve of everything he meant to accomplish yesterday. Then he remembered Jackie. He reached for the phone, dialing the number without a moment's hesitation. Surprisingly, it was Jackie who answered, catching Steve off guard. The weakness in her voice was wrenching, but he soon realized that, though weak, she was still clear of mind. Time and illness had not robbed her of herself, and for that he said a silent prayer of thanks.

The conversation was honest and open. Jackie wasted no time in telling him the truth about her health and Steve held nothing back from his own news. It was painful but cleansing. Telling lies—even lies of omission—was poisonous to his system.

"That's everything," Steve said, cradling the phone. "I'm sorry I kept the truth from you. I've made a mess of things."

"Don't Steven. Don't let's waste time with regrets. Please."

"You're right. But you're positive you're okay? I can be there in a few hours if you need me."

"If you really want to help me, then stay. You've a chance to be cured. Don't waste it. I'm well cared for. Emily is staying with me."

"That's wonderful. How is she?"

Jackie hesitated. After all of their open talk, this sudden quiet felt wrong. "There's no problem with Emily, is there?"

"No, she's fine. Let's not discuss this now, over the phone. Do come Steve, when you can. You do care for her, don't you?"

"Of course. She's a wonderful girl."

"I'm glad. You are the most important people in my life. I love you so, both of you. I'm…rather tired now. I…should probably say goodbye."

"Of course," Steve said. "We'll talk soon. I love you, Jackie."

Steve hung up and laid his phone down, feeling like a new man. If he lived another fifty years, or just one more day, he would never waste another moment of that precious time lying. Trying to protect the people you love by deceiving them was a fool's game. It didn't work.

As he stood, Steve realized he was still in his uniform. He must have been tired. He never slept in his uniform, a few times during the war, but rarely since. His mask was still on—even his boots! He could imagine what Aunt Penny would say about that. How many times had she given him an ear-full for walking across her freshly mopped kitchen floor with his work boots still on? He smiled to think about it. Penny was a good woman, with a bright mind, a quick wit… and a tongue that was a little too sharp sometimes. But very kind. He thought of Uncle Mike, so much like Steve's father, yet so very different. Not a drinker, Mike was stronger in character, steadfast, where his father was quick to give in to melancholy and discouragement. His poor, lonely, lost father, never quite able to meet life on its own terms. Steve tried always to honor his parents memory…but it was Mike and Penny Rogers who saved him. It was impossible to imagine how his life might have gone without their love and support.

His stomach rumbled, ending philosophical thoughts. There was Jarvis's chicken soup, but that wasn't doing it for him. He remembered the energy pills Hank had given him, and pulled one from the pouch on his belt. He held it up.

"Five thousand calories of protein? Well, here goes…"

He popped it into his mouth. Seconds later, he felt the miniaturized contents expand, filling his stomach, and his eyes went glassy.

"Good God…tastes like a cardboard box!"

Tucking his mask and gauntlets into his belt and slinging his shield across his back, he slipped downstairs in search of food.

Steve halted at hearing voices coming from the kitchen. With team members beginning to arrive, the kitchen would be like an all-night diner, with hordes of hungry Avengers traipsing in and out. He wasn't ready to face them yet. He headed down the hall, to the walkway, which whisked him out to the runway tarmac. Jameson's crew had a small kitchen in the hangar, he could scrounge some chow there.

It was a cool but pleasant night, as New York was being treated to a real Indian summer. The huge hanger bay was open and the lights were on. He made his way in, seeing John Jameson and Sam standing next to the Quinjet, huddled in conversation. Steve called out.

"This a private party, or can anyone join?"

The two men looked up, a little startled; Jameson quickly closed a file, setting it face-down on a nearby workbench. "You're always welcome here Cap, you know that," he said. "Sam and I were just shooting the breeze."

Sam walked up to him. He was in uniform, with his mask off, looking the part of a man on a mission. "You had us worried last night. Good to see you up and around. How are you feeling?"

"For a guy who got thrown off a building and nearly died? Not bad. Any news on Crossbones?"

Sam's expression darkened. "The bastard gave us the slip. SHIELD scooped up three of his crew, but I can't get any information."

"I'll check into it, see what I can find. So, am I interrupting something here? Looked like you were having a serious conversation."

"No…like John said, just shooting the breeze."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Jameson broke it by grabbing his jacket from the workbench. Steve noticed him slip the file under his jacket. "Look at the time. Christie's going to read me the riot act. Sam, good catching up with you, we'll talk later. Cap, there's beer and pizza in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Famous Ray's?"

"Original Famous Ray's," Jameson said, smiling. "Lock up and turn out the lights, will you?"

Jameson was quickly in his car and gone. Steve headed to the kitchen, returning a moment later with two bottles and the pizza box. He handed Sam a bottle.

"I'd have been in real trouble last night if you hadn't been there. Thanks for the catch, partner."

Sam took a swig. "Don't be playing. I tanked it against Bones."

"Sam…"

"I'm not beating myself up, got that out of my system. I came up short, that's all. I'll get it together for round two, trust me."

"I thought you'd retired."

"Look, I've been through this already with Akiela. I'm back, so get used to it. Just like riding a bike, you never really forget."

Steve's expression grew serious. "I know you're not some rookie who doesn't know the score…but when you fall off this bike, sometimes you don't get back up. You have a family, a baby on the way."

"And I'm thinking about them. Everybody has a stake in this fight, Steve, it's not all about you. I don't want my son growing up in a world with a monster like the Skull roaming loose in it."

"Son?"

Sam smiled. "Akiela told me this morning. It's a pretty great thing, a wife, a family. You ought to look into it sometime."

Steve's eyes darkened. "I'm facing a terminal disease. Maybe you forgot."

"No, I didn't forget. What about the last fifteen years?" Steve had no answer. Sam went on. "Sharon was there last night."

"Jan told me. How is she?"

"Angry, hurt, relieved. She wants to see you. She's just not sure if you want to see her."

Steve dropped his gaze, absently picking at the label on his bottle. "We had a fight. I said some nasty things. Maybe it's best if I keep my distance, I only seem to wind up hurting her."

Sam set his beer down. "I don't know, maybe you like being alone. Plan to do the stoic hero thing to the very end, is that it? Play the martyr?"

Steve's jaw tightened. "Why are you pushing me?"

"If I don't, who will? Everybody else is caught up in the hero-worship thing, all they see is the mask, the shield. Captain America, Super Soldier, always saves the day. But I know the real you, the guy behind the mask. I know you're alone, and I hate that for you. Sharon loves you. And I know damned well that you love her. Only when things get too close, you throw up a wall. Did the same with Bernie a few years ago, and to any other woman who comes into your life. But especially with Sharon. Why is that?"

Steve wanted to turn away. He didn't. "You don't understand. It's not that easy."

"Nothing worth having ever is. Damnit, Steve, you could have something special with Sharon. Like maybe a life."

"I have a life."

Sam snatched the mask from Steve's belt and held it up. "This is a lot of things Steve, a lot of good things, things to be proud of. But it's not everything. It's not a life."

"It's…what I have. It's what's left. And I'm okay with that."

"Bullshit."

"Suddenly you know what I'm feeling inside?"

"About this? Yeah, I do. Look, you never want to talk about it, and I always let it be. But not anymore. This is about her, isn't it? Your English woman."

"She has a name! It's Jacqueline!"

Sam eased back, allowing the anger to drain from Steve's face. His voice was quiet as he spoke.

"I know. It's a beautiful name. I'm sure she was a beautiful lady. But Steve, you've got to let her go. If you don't, if you can't let what's in the past stay in the past, then you'll never have a future at all. Sharon is here, right now. She's waited fifteen years for you. But she can't wait forever. Suppose Hank cures this thing, what then? Going to stay alone the rest of your life, is that the plan? You think it honors the love you and Jacqueline shared if you spend the rest of your life alone in misery? Don't work that way man. The past is gone."

Steve turned and walked to the edge of the hanger bay, looking out into the dark sky. The near-by East River had put a chill in the air. After a minute of silence, he finally spoke.

"One day, I went to sleep. It was nineteen forty-four. Then I wake up, and it's sixty years later. And everything changed." Steve turned to Sam. "Can you possibly understand what that was like?"

"No," Sam admitted. "I can't."

"And if it happened to you? Would you just have just moved on, knowing Akiela was still alive? Jackie's not in the past, Sam, she's here, today. The woman I was going to marry. You tell me I need to let her go. Could you?"

Sam stood there, silent. In his hand was Steve's mask. He walked over, and handed back the cowl like a peace offering.

"I don't have the answers, Steve. I only know it breaks my heart, watching my best friend spend his life alone."

Steve took the mask and held it. For a long time, he was silent. Finally, a small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I'm not alone. Got you, don't I?"

"That's true."

"Here's an idea. I'll move in with you and Akiela, have you make up a spare bedroom for me. That way, when we're old and gray, we can hang out and play checkers."

"Going to have to charge you rent, you know."

"We can work something out. Maybe I can baby-sit? Just think, I can tell your grandkids all about the amazing exploits of the Falcon." Steve's smile widened into a wicked grin. "Like the time you apprehended that dangerous up-town burglar. What was her name? Oh yeah, the Black Cat. They'd get a kick out of that story."

"Hey now, you promised to never talk about that. That was years before I even knew Akiela—she doesn't need to be knowin' all my business. You're going to force me to talk about that time you hooked up with that Diamondback girl. Now that was flat out nasty."

Steve laughed. "Okay. We'll keep it quiet, just stick to the checkers. Deal?"

"Deal," Sam said. He and Steve shook hands on it, and Sam looked up in wonder. "Damn man, you did it; the black-man shake! There's hope for you yet."

Steve laughed again, hard. Sam just shook his head.

"…Captain America," he said reverently. "Soul Brotha' number one."

Across town, Park Avenue

Daniel Covington stepped from the private elevator into the hallway leading to his luxurious penthouse apartment. Nearly fifty, he was fit and trim. His exquisite and understated attire matched his unhurried saunter. It was a look only the entitled could affect. His man Decker trailed behind, inconspicuous as a shadow, impressive for a man his size. Covington turned to his bodyguard.

"Wait here until I'm inside. After that, you may leave."

"Of course, sir."

Decker stood outside the door, an impenetrable statue of muscle and menace, as Covington stepped inside. He loosened his four-hundred dollar tie with a smile. Gloria was away for the weekend, attending yet another charity event in the Hamptons. How his wife loved the underprivileged. Their plight always made for the best parties.

Daniel had been looking forward to tonight all week. Anna would be waiting for him in the bedroom. Anna; so young and talented. After the week he had had, Daniel needed a little diversion. It wasn't easy being one of the Masters of the Universe, running the industries that run the country that runs the world. Daniel deserved his reward. And Anna was very rewarding. And so very, very young. He heard her walking towards the door, and his eagerness grew.

"I hope you brought your toys," Daniel called out, fixing himself a drink. "I'm in the mood to play."

"Oh, I never go anywhere without my toys," said a voice from the bedroom. The door swung open. Standing in the shadows was a man dressed in a garish blue and purple outfit.

Covington screamed for help and the front door burst open, Decker filling the space, revolver in hand. An arrow struck him, instantly collapsing into a bundle of wires, wrapping around him like a lasso. A bright arc of electricity crackled through Decker. He dropped to the floor like a stone. Covington screamed at prostrate figure

"Get up, damn you!"

"He's sleepy-bye," Hawkeye said, stepping into the light. "Not even all that cocaine I found in your dresser could wake him up right now."

Daniel got his first good look at the intruder. He stared in shock. "You're that...Bullseye person. What do you want with me?"

"The name's Hawkeye, dipwad," the archer fumed. "Bullseye pitches for the opposition. But hey, I'd much rather talk about you, Danny. Quite a night you had on tap. Coke, ecstasy, Viagra…you're a regular party monster." Hawkeye tossed a plastic bag to Covington, filled with drugs and paraphernalia.

"I…I've never seen this before in my life."

"What about that underage hooker I sent packing, ever see her before?" The archer shook his head, tisking in disapproval. "What was she, Danny, fifteen? I imagine the Wall Street Journal would love this story. Not to mention the police."

"Are you blackmailing me? What kind of a superhero are you?"

"The kind you don't want to know. I don't play well with others, Danny, especially not corporate sleaze-bags like you. I want information. What does Brand Laboratories have its dirty little fingers into that brought Hydra sniffing around your back door?"

Covington's grew pale. "We're cooperating with the police on that matter."

"Yeah, well I'm not the cops. Answer my question."

"We were the victims here, Avenger. Hydra is who you should be going after, not innocent businessmen."

"Innocent businessmen, there's an oxymoron." Hawkeye slung the bow over his chest and stalked towards Covington. "Sing, Danny, and make it good…or else I make you front page news all over town.." He snatched the bag of drugs from Covington, holding them up.

Covington sneered at Hawkeye, his nerve revived. "This is a farce. You don't have a lick of evidence linking me to those drugs—it's your word against mine. I'm one of the richest men in the country…and you're a clown in a circus costume. Go ahead Avenger, call the police. I want to press charges. I'm going to sue you and your little superhero club into the Stone Age."

Hawkeye thought for a moment. Then he popped Covington with a sharp right hook, dropping him like a stone. "Time for plan B," he said, hefting the man over his shoulder.

. . .

Covington awoke slowly. His jaw ached and he was freezing cold. He opened his eyes with an effort.

"What the hell?"

He was outside, on his rooftop patio, propped against a brick wall. His arms and legs were spread out, bound at the wrists and ankles, and he was stripped to his silk boxers. He looked up, and saw Hawkeye, standing on the far edge of the terraced rooftop.

"Hey there Danny. I figured a change of scenery might jog your memory, so let's try this again. What are you people into over at Brand?"

Hawkeye pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew it back, pointing it square at Daniel. It was only then he noticed the blindfold Hawkeye was wearing.

"Jesus! No, no!" Daniel shouted through pale, bloodless lips. "Somebody help me!"

"Don't be such a cry-baby, it's perfectly safe. This is the first trick they teach you in good old Circus Clown U."

The arrow sliced the night air, striking the wall not a hair away from Daniel's left cheek, so close he could taste the brick dust. Covington shrieked in terror. "Oh God oh God oh God! Somebody help me! He's crazy! Help me!"

Hawkeye began to sing out, merrily, like a drunken pub-crawler.

"Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…"

He gently notched a second arrow.

"From Glen to Glen and down the mountainside…"

With a quiet twang, the arrow took flight. This one struck to the right of Covington's face, pinning his head between the two shafts.

"Please God! I…I don't know what they wanted! Please believe me!"

"I'd like to Danny, I really would, but the superhero guidebook is very clear on this point. Never take the word of a scum-bucket tycoon. My hands are tied. Wait, I got that wrong. You're the one whose hands are tied. I'm the one wearing the blindfold."

Hawkeye held up a third, gleaming arrow. "I call this one the Mangler, Danny. Pay close attention …"

Hawkeye gave a twist to the arrowhead, a large steel cylinder, as big as a silver dollar. The device came alive, the saw-toothed edge whirling with a high-pitched whine, like a dentist drill on steroids.

"How tall are you, Danny? 'Bout five ten?" Hawkeye lowered his aim. With mounting horror, the Brand CEO plotted the trajectory of that arrow; its point of terminus was approximately six inches below his waistband. Hawkeye smiled.

"Try not to droop."

The arrow shot forward. Covington closed his eyes and screamed. He could feel the night air through the hole made in his boxers. It missed, by how little he dared not imagine. The arrow continued to spin, burrowing through the brick wall, and Covington's bladder released.

"I'll tell you! Only don't do that again, please!"

"Spill it," Hawkeye said, ripping a forth arrow from his quiver. "Make it good, Danny. It's getting hard to keep missing."

"Oh God, the Queens lab… they do specialized work. Cutting edge genetics. They've been working on pair-bonding, gene-splicing, RNA and DNA reconstitution…"

"In English," Hawkeye said, drawing the arrow back.

"Cloning! They're working on human cloning. We were approached by another organization, partnered with them. Their work was brilliant, far ahead of anything our people had ever seen. But they needed help. We didn't know it was Hydra, I swear to God! Once we knew, we tried to back out. They wouldn't let us. That's why the robbery, to get their material. They've threatened my life…that's why I had to get a bodyguard. I had to cooperate, I had no choice!"

Hawkeye let the bow go slack, ripping the blindfold off. With a quick touch to the side of his mask, the inferred switched off from his lenses, which had allowed him to see.

"Hydra is threatening your life, and you think Vin Diesel with a gun is going to keep you safe? Take my advice, Danny, go to the Fed's and cop a plea. You might even live long enough to see the first pitch of the World Series."

Hawkeye walked over to Daniel. Taking a small knife from his boot, he sliced the nylon cords. Covington fell. Hawkeye twisted the feathered end of the last arrow. The saw went into reverse, freeing itself from the wall. With a disgusted look, Hawkeye dropped the shaft next to Covington.

"That was a perfectly good arrow you ruined. Have it cleaned and pressed, and send it to my superhero club."

The archer took a small controller from his belt, pressing in a command. Instantly, his sky-cycle came hovering over the ledge of the roof. He jumped on, turning to face Covington, who was dripping in the cold night air.

"I don't like creeps who pay under aged girls for sex, Danny. I catch you doing it again, I won't be so friendly."

And Hawkeye was gone.