Hello, I'm back! Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! Hope you enjoy this! Taking a tip from a reviewer, I've decided to go back to plain bolded sign glossing as apparently the problem with differentiating it is on my screen.

Disclaimers: as before.

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When Clint and I reach the hotel, we're both sweating, despite the cold, and on edge. Clint points out to me a pair of black SUVs parked a few blocks away as we approach.

Don't like the look of that.

We approach the door nervously. I have no clue what to expect. We duck into a corner a block from the hotel to confer.

What do you think's going on?

Nothing good. Standard Operating Procedure is to abandon the post and meet at the rendezvous. But Coulson would have radioed in with that order if he was able to. There's going to be trouble in there. But I can't just leave Coulson behind.

I'm coming too. I would really hope by this point that Clint and I are an inseperable team, but I can tell by the look on his face that he's about to order me to the rendezvous alone.

Stay behind me. Clint clears the door, then the stairwell, half terrifying a young housekeeper with an armful of blankets. I'm just glad he's had the sense to use his sidearm; the bow would have given her a heart attack. She mutters something about "you people are wrecking business this evening" and bolts.

They're definitely watching the elevator. Otherwise she would have been using that. Clint continues clearing the corners as we climb. My heart is in my throat and I wonder what to expect when we get to our floor. Why are we under threat from our own people?

Won't they be watching the stairs too?

We're not taking the stairs all the way.

And we don't. The rooms we're using for a base are a connected suite on the third floor. Clint and I exit rather unconventionally through a window halfway up the stairs between the second a third floors and climb window sills to reach our rooms. It's kind of weird how quickly doing things like this has become routine. I still, however, make it a point to avoid looking in any of the rooms we pass, although most of the blinds are down.

Our rooms are suspiciously dark. Clint and I hang from the window ledge with cold, numb fingers, looking over just enough to try to see inside. Thankfully this side of the building is sheltered from the rain.

The windows are completely blank and it's so dark I can't see anything. I glance at Clint and we don't even need signs to say what we're thinking. Clint grabs a grappling arrow from his quiver and pulls himself up enough to jam it in over the window sill into the wall. Then he nods to me. I grab onto him and we kick out together from the wall.

It seems to happen in slow motion and it's like something from a cut-rate spy flick. We hit the window together, boots first, and then crash through in a shower of glass and rain, rolling to our feet on the carpet. I'm pulling my knives already and Clint's got an arrow nocked.

And we're met by a blinding blast of light and at least ten guns pointed at us. I'm ready to go into fight mode when I see the uniforms behind the weapons. S.H.I.E.L.D.

"What the hell?' I gasp, and Clint seems as shocked as I am. That second of surprise is enough for us to be overwhelmed and our weapons taken. We're hauled to our feet with our arms behind our backs.

A tall, dark-haired agent in a suit steps forward. I vaguely recognize him from the base where I trained. "Agent Barton, Agent McBride, you're under arrest."

"Agent Jackson? What the hell is going on?" Clint shouts, and I'm not sure if that's because he can't hear himself or if it's because he's angry. Maybe a bit of both. "Where's Coulson?"

"Where you're about to be. You're all going to be taken in for questioning in regards to the murder of Admiral Karakoff."

"Who's that?" Clint spits.

"The man your partner killed. With your help."

"Nat…Agent Romanoff?" I'm not surprised, well, I mean, that she killed someone. But why this response?

"Agent Romanoff has been declared a traitor to S.H.I.E.L.D. and you're all to be called in for questioning. As of now, you are all under suspicion." Jackson motions to the men holding us and we're pushed to the door.

We stand in the elevator in silence, and I dart confused glances at the stern-faced agents guarding us. When we get to the cars, I see Coulson sitting in the rear seat of the first, and I automatically try to talk to him. But I'm pulled back sharply. And then something that panics me even more happens.

The men holding Clint pull him away to the next car and I'm being pushed alone to the third.

"Wait! No, I'm his interpreter. We have to stay together."

Agent Jackson looks at me cooly. "You're all going to be interrogated separately, to see which if any of you was in collusion with Romanoff. We don't want to give anyone any time more than they have already to get their stories to match." Without another word, my head is being pushed down and I'm seated in the back of the Suburban between two rigid agents.

We drive off into the mist of the night, and my heart is in my throat. This is a nightmare come to life. What happens to traitors? I don't even really want to think about it. I clench my hands in my lap and wish Clint was there with me. With him I wouldn't be as afraid. But I'm not ready to handle this alone.

I stare out the window into the dark, knowing as little about the passing landscape as I do about what awaits me when we arrive at base.

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Well, this is getting interesting. I hope you enjoyed it! I had a more difficult time on this part because I could see it all happening in my head but somehow it was hard to get more than the bare minimum on paper. I might come back and make this more interesting later.

Comments or constructive criticism welcome!