AN: Well, I told you it was going to be late. I pushed this chapter out despite a ridiculous schedule and a bad case of writer's block so I'm still pretty proud but I know some of you might be upset. Here's the chapter anyways though. Thank you to my reviewers. If I didn't get to messaging you back I'm very sorry but like I said, I wanted to make getting the next chapter out my priority. Thank you as well to all my favoriters and alerters and my viewers. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I disclaim everything I don't own.

People always have choices. They may not always have options, but they do have choices. –This Can't Be Love by Kasey Michaels

When the call came in Clint was fast asleep with his head in the pillow and the hotel blankets caught around his lower body. He pulled himself up to a seated position and answered the phone with a rough and tired, "Hello?"

"How did you contact SHIELD?" Kline asked. He didn't sound angry, not even frustrated.

Clint tried to clear the fatigue from his brain as he asked, "What?"

"SHIELD is sitting outside of Stark Tower. Obviously they've been tipped off. I'm just curious how you managed to contact them so quickly," Kline replied.

Clint rubbed his eyes but was finally starting to grasp the situation. "I didn't contact SHIELD. They must have figured it all out on their own."

"You didn't contact them," Kline said.

It wasn't a question but Clint answered anyways. "I haven't contacted anyone. Miss Potts called me during the night but I didn't tell her anything."

"Yes, Miss Potts stopped in last night," Kline said with a bitter tone.

"What happened? Is she alright?" Clint asked. When this was all over Tony would hunt Clint down and kill him for putting Pepper in danger.

"Miss Potts is fine. When she entered the building my men tried to grab her," Kline said. "And they got a bullet for their troubles."

"So you didn't get her," Clint smiled.

"No," Kline bit back. "We didn't get her."

"Where do we go from here?" Clint asked. Kline's first rule had been to keep SHIELD out of this whole charade.

"You have a deal to complete," Kline said simply.

Clint frowned. "What?"

"Remember? You get to phone your friends after you do something for me," Kline explained. "Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"Yes, but…" Clint trailed off. "What about SHIELD?"

"You're wondering why I didn't kill one of your friends, no?" Kline asked.

"Well, yes," Clint replied.

Kline sighed. "I believe you didn't contact them. I've kept a pretty close watch on you and I don't know when you could've made the call. I also don't think you're stupid enough to lie to me when I asked you earlier. I think your Director Fury figured out there was a problem on his own and worked out an idea of what's going on from there. Based on that, you've been following the rules which is all I've asked of you. I still have all the Avengers, SHIELD can't come in without a risk to themselves and the Avengers, and no one but you and I know where you are right now. I still have the advantage here and until that changes I see no point in disrupting a process that works pretty well for us. Do you?"

Clint asked, "SHIELD doesn't worry you at all?"

"I'll keep my eyes on them but the truth is, I figured they would find out eventually. Now is a little sooner than I would've guessed but I was prepared," Kline said. "Any more questions?"

Clint remembered rule two and replied with a quick, "No."

"Good. You can learn," Kline said. "Now, destroy if your SHIELD phone and hide the gun. You won't be needing it for a day or two."

"If I get rid of my phone I-" Clint started.

"Rule number three: Don't argue. I know what I'm doing, Agent Barton, so just do what I told you and I'll call you in three hours," he said.

Clint sighed. "Got it."

Kline chuckled. "Lighten up. No one's dead yet."

That didn't make Clint feel any better. He pulled out the SIM card and snapped it and then tossed the phone in the trash. He was going to leave when he stopped and picked the phone back up. He popped the back of the phone off again and set it down on the bed.

"This is ridiculous. We have two geniuses, a super soldier, and Xena the warrior princess and we can't manage to break out of my house?" Tony asked. "I reject that as a real thing."

"Tony, be realistic. When you rebuilt Stark Tower-" Bruce said.

"Avengers Tower," Tony corrected.

"You built it to withstand the Hulk, an alien space army, demi-gods, SHIELD, nuclear missiles, and anything else the world might throw at it," Bruce finished. "By sheer accident you built an Avengers proof house and as it is we're short two Avengers."

"I don't feel good," Tony said. He turned around and barely made it to the trash can before emptying the contents of his stomach into the bin.

"Lovely," Natasha said.

Steve was there immediately with a hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

"No. I'm not okay," Tony snapped. "I'm exhausted, hungry, angry, and helpless. And now I'm sick. I am the opposite of okay."

"What do you mean you're exhausted, Tony?" Bruce asked.

"What day is it?" Tony asked.

"Sunday," Natasha replied.

Tony slid down the wall to sit on the floor. "I haven't slept in six days."

"Good God, why didn't you say something?" Bruce asked.

"I forgot," Tony replied.

Steve frowned. "You forgot?"

Bruce was checking Tony's pulse as Natasha answered, "At a certain point without sleep you start having memory lapses. It starts small; you forget why you walked into a room or what you said last but then eventually you forget where you are and even names of people and things. Tony, what's this?"

Tony looked to where Natasha was pointing. "A trash can. The trash can I just threw up in."

Natasha picked up a pen and asked, "And what's this?"

"It's a…a…a thing that you write with. I don't know, Stalin," Tony said. He shook Bruce off his wrist. "Stop touching me."

"Is he going to be okay?" Steve asked.

"Well," Bruce replied. "I'm no medical doctor but I know enough to know that he won't be if he doesn't get some sleep soon."

"Why doesn't he just go to sleep? You get tired and you go to sleep. You don't even really have to think about it," Bruce said.

"It might have something to do with him being held hostage before," Steve said.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Tony snapped.

"I read everyone's files. He was tortured and he lost someone," Steve said. "Apparently it was pretty bad."

"Tony doesn't handle not being in control very well," Bruce said.

"His mind is keeping him awake then," Natasha said. "He's using it as a defense mechanism."

"How do we make him sleep?" Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged. "I've used sleep deprivation against someone before but I've never had it used on me."

"People use this as a form of torture?" Steve asked.

Natasha nodded. "And it's pretty effective. Ask Stark what his Social Security Number is."

Tony looked up at her suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Paperwork," Natasha replied smoothly.

"Two-six-nine, one-three, one-nine-nine-five," Tony said. "I memorized it after Pepper told me I didn't know it."

Steve just shook his head. "Could we knock him unconscious?"

"Not without doing some brain damage," Bruce replied.

"Not all head injuries result in brain damage," Steve replied.

"Do you want to take the risk?" Bruce said. "No, what we need are some sedatives."

"Hey! Kline! If you're listening we need some sedatives in here. Now!" Steve yelled.

Jarvis' voice came through the speakers. "Message recorded. Request will be processed."

"Great," Natasha said. "We got voicemail."

"I'll take voicemail over silence any day," Steve said.

"Hey Stalin, would you sleep with me if I paid you a million dollars?" Tony asked.

Natasha scowled. "Never mind. I vote we knock him out."

Clint had hid the gun and dropped the SIM card pieces down a drain into the sewer. Now he was sitting alone on a park bench and praying he'd done the right thing by trying to leave SHIELD a message. He'd had no time for high tech or coded messages. He'd simply written everything he knew on a piece of paper, folded it up, and stuck it in the back of the phone. The battery itself was resting in the watery depths in the back of the toilet.

If Kline found out though, he was screwed. Clint checked his watch as the second hand clicked toward the three hour deadline. Clint's phone rang. "Kline? It's done."

"Good to hear," he replied. "But we need to talk about our deal."

Clint asked warily, "What?"

"I know we dealt originally for a phone call but I'm going to give you a choice. When was the last time you checked the site?" Kline asked.

"I'm checking now," Clint pulled the iPad out and logged into the site. Natasha and Bruce were crouched next to a sickly and surly looking Tony. Steve was pacing on the other side of the room. "What's wrong with Tony?"

"From what I've gathered, sleep deprivation," Kline said. "Your friends are asking for sedatives."

"Then give them some," Clint demanded.

"Sedatives will cost you, Agent Barton," Kline said.

"I'll pay for the damn sedatives, Kline. I'm funding everything else on this venture why would I be thrown by this?" Clint asked.

"That's not what I meant. We make deals," Kline said.

And Clint had already made a deal. Now he understood. If Clint wanted Tony to get the sedatives he needed then the phone call would have to go out the window. "Fine, no phone call."

"Good decision," Kline said. "I'm sure your friend Tony will be greatly appreciative."

"What do I have to do?" Clint asked.

"How are you pickpocketing skills?" Kline asked.

Clint was an assassin, not a spy. They'd learned out to pickpocket in training but Clint hadn't needed to ever really put it into use. "I know how."

"You don't sound very confident," Kline replied.

Clint sighed. "We went over it in training but I'm no expert."

"Well, I guess it really doesn't matter how you get it. I'm going to text you a picture of a man and some information. He has an a key card on his person. You're going to need to get it," Kline said.

Clint rolled his eyes heavenward searching for help. "I'm not a spy, Kline. I'm a sniper."

"That sounds like your problem," Kline said.

"I may not be able to do this," Clint pushed. "I have a specific skill set and pickpocketing is not part of the set."

Kline sighed. "Look, Agent Barton, I have full confidence in your ability to do this. You'll be amazed what you can accomplish when you have to."

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't getting anywhere this way. "Fine, fine, I'll figure it out."

"How long do you think this is going to take you?" Kline asked.

"It can't take long," Clint said. "Tony needs those sedatives yesterday."

Kline chuckled. "I like the way you think. Get this job done and your friend will get what he needs."

"He'd better," Clint said with a small threat in his voice.

"I don't care what it takes," Fury snapped into the phone. "Find Agent Barton now or they'll be looking for you!"

Pepper walked over to him with purpose as he snapped the phone shut. "Director, what was that?"

"A phone call, Miss Potts," Fury replied.

"I got that much on my own, thank you. It had something to do with what's going on here," she said.

He glared at her. "Afraid not."

She put her hands on her hips and glared back at him for all she was worth. "I work in the big business world, Director. I've learned to spot lies fairly quickly and you shouting Agent Barton's name at the top of your lungs certainly helped me figure it out."

"The information I received on that phone was classified information," Fury replied.

Pepper was momentarily speechless but she recovered quickly. "Don't give me that load of bullshit. You've broken the rules before and you can do it again."

Fury seemed taken aback, and then he put his hand on Pepper's shoulder. "Miss Potts, that was a very different situation-"

"You do not get to prioritize human lives," she said icily.

"I'm not trying to," Fury said. He took a deep breath. "Walk with me."

Pepper followed the director the farthest edge away from the mass of SHIELD vans, personnel, and equipment. "This isn't nearly far enough but it makes me feel better."

"What's going on?" Pepper asked.

"We know where the Avengers are and we know, generally, what Jonas Kline's eventual goal is. Clint, Agent Barton, is the wild card here," Fury said.

"So you've decided to look for him," Pepper said.

Fury nodded. "Unfortunately, it's a bit like finding hay in a stack of needles."

Pepper frowned. "That's not how the saying goes."

"Trust me when I say that my version is more accurate," he replied. "Clint off the map and I, honestly, don't know what game he's playing."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"We're not as stupid as the Council likes to act," Fury said with a slight grin. "Clint is not going rogue. This Kline person wanted Clint to do a contract hit for him and Clint said no."

"A contract hit…you mean like an assassination?" Pepper asked.

He nodded. "Now the Avengers are locked up and Agent Barton has gone missing? Sounds like someone couldn't take no for an answer."

Pepper was pretty quick on the uptake. "Tony and the others, they're being used to make Agent Barton do the hit?"

"That's my take on the situation, yes," Fury replied.

She frowned. "So what is Agent Barton going to do?"

"Frankly, I haven't the slightest fucking idea," he said. "Right now, it looks like he's playing Kline's game. Stark and the other's lives are depending on it."

"He's going to have to kill someone?" Pepper asked.

"God help him if it comes to that," Fury said. "He has rules he's supposed to follow. Agent Barton can't kill someone without getting the green light from the council."

"Then give him the green light," Pepper said. "Surely he can get away with it this once because of the circumstances."

Fury laughed. "If only it were that easy. I might have taken the job if I'd known the red tape bureaucratic nonsense that goes into this job. The Council doesn't like me, they don't like the Avengers, and they don't like Clint."

"So, they're going to get the Avengers killed?" Pepper asked. "That's taking it pretty far."

Fury snorted. "They'll get the Avengers killed, hang Agent Barton out to dry for every procedure he didn't follow, and drop me as far as they can."

Pepper frowned. "This sounds very fishy, Director."

"Why do you think we're talking all the way over here?" Fury asked with an arched eyebrow.

Clint was sitting in front of a fairly pricey hotel trying to determine how he was going to pickpocket an FBI agent. From the information Kline had sent him in the text message, the man was Special Agent Brian Loran and he was here in London to work with Scotland Yard. Clint entertained the idea that Kline was trying to get him killed but that made no sense. If he wanted Clint dead he could have shot him back at the café. Instead he drew out this scheme and had Clint chasing all over trying to get a hit together. He took a moment to check on the Avengers. Not much had changed in Tony's condition but they'd cleared off the conference room table and laid him down on it. Clint didn't get to spend much time checking in on him before Special Agent Loran exited the hotel. Clint got up and followed him.

Pickpocketing, a skill mostly opportunistic in nature, was something Natasha used on every other mission and a skill Clint used to pass the bi-annual qualification test. Thus far the test had never been so hard as to require him to steal from a highly trained law enforcement official. Clint might be willing to give up his soul to have Natasha standing next to him. Clint's mind was working miles every minute but the man in front of him seemed only ready to enjoy the sights and sounds of London. He stopped a few times to check his watch and once to text someone on his phone. Clint might have been able to use these opportunities to pickpocket the man but he'd chosen to wait. The timing didn't feel right.

"You gotta pick a time sooner or later," Clint muttered to himself.

The woman selling newspapers next to him chuckled. "You might want to get that checked out, my dear. Talking to yourself is never a good thing."

He gave her a half smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Thanks."

Clint followed Special Agent Loran around a corner and down a populated street. If ever there was a time to pick his pocket it'd be now. Clint pushed forward into the crowd. He gained on him twenty feet, ten feet, five feet, and then he was right behind him. He was nearly next to him but he waited until they walked past a vendor. Clint took a step to his left to avoid the table and walked right into Special Agent Loran. He grabbed the man's arms to steady himself with his right hand and fished the wallet out of his back pocket with his left. "Sorry, sir."

The man nodded and went on his way while Clint stopped next to the vendor and pocketed the wallet. Clint nearly dropped to the ground in relief. He'd gotten so used to the rush of a hit that going on a mission usually didn't do a thing for him. He hadn't really been challenged since New York. This was an adrenaline rush. His legs felt wobbly but he managed to make his way back to the bench across the way from the hotel. It wasn't long before the phone rang. "I got the keycard."

"Fantastic news," Kline replied. "I'll get those sedatives over to your friends right away."

"What am I getting myself involved in, Kline?" Clint asked. "You've got me stealing from federal agents."

"No questions, remember?" Kline asked.

Clint sighed. "Yeah, I remember."

"Are you ready for part two of this mission?" Kline asked.

"Part two?" Clint replied.

"That keycard is going to get you into Special Agent Loran's hotel room," Kline said. "And you need to get into that room."

"What for?" Clint asked.

Kline cleared his throat. "There are several documents in the room including one set of blueprints."

"I'm stealing blueprints from a federal agent's hotel room?" Clint asked.

"No, you're taking pictures of blueprints," Kline replied. "Taking them would give him a reason to be suspicious."

Clint sighed again. "Fine. What are these blueprints for?"

"Don't worry about that just yet. Get pictures of the blueprints and I'll get the sedatives to your friends," Kline replied.

"I want a phone call after this," Clint said quickly.

Kline snorted. "Not a chance, Agent Barton. This mission was for the sedatives and the sedatives only."

"But I dealt the sedatives for stealing the keycard," Clint said.

"You dealt sedatives for the next part of this assignment and this is part of the next assignment," Kline said.

Clint growled. "You're playing word games, Kline. We had a good thing going."

"I'm not playing anything," Kline said. "There will be plenty of opportunities for phone calls in the future. This is not one of them."

Clint took a moment to count to ten and calm himself before replying. "We'll talk."

"Of course," Kline replied. "Good luck."

"Right," Clint said and hung up.

AN: And that's a wrap. It's not my best chapter, I know, but I kind of like it anyways. That's probably pretty vain of me. I would appreciate the reviews since I'm posting this story as I write it. It gives me an idea of what you like and what you don't like. Thanks again and stick around for the next chapter.