In the lab, there were dozens of different computers lining the walls and a maze of desk, each littered with tons of paper, sticky folders and monstrous amounts of office supplies, empty wine bottles, pain relievers and photographs. Millions and millions of photos. Clint ran his finger over an A3 sheet of paper, covered with photos. There was a profile picture of each member of the Avengers, Charles Xavier and Nick Fury, young and old, with notes scribbled underneath them. Clint didn't have time to worry over that. He moved towards the little glow of a desk lamp in the corner. He had to dodge metal boxes and cardboard packages and old lunches. He ended up jumping over a few tables to get to the light source. He flicked off his torch and returned it to his pockets. He pulled up a chair next to a bony, matted, warm lump sprawled over two desks and a chair. It had its head in a sandwich and one hand gripping a bunch of papers. The other hand was lying limp on a pile of photos.

Clint shook the thing's shoulder lightly. He jumped back as it sprung up with a jolt, swearing lightly. It shook its head and shoulder length, black, matted hair fell away from dark, knowing eyes. Mark Terry wiped his long bony hand over his cheek, removing as much jam and pickles as he could. Clint was a bit shocked at how much Mark had changed. The friends hadn't seen each other in a long time, a decade and a bit. Clint had gotten stronger, fitter and more skilled. Mark, too, had gotten a lot more skilled but his physical appearance was almost horrifying. His cheek bones stuck out of his face, his skin stretched tight over his features. His eyes were sunken in with bags showing years of underground living and plenty of sleepless weeks. His body, dressed in old jackets and track pants, wrapped in old, rotting blankets, was thin and fragile, as if a strong wind would make it crumble. His fingers were shaking as he straightened out the papers in front of him.

"Mark, you gotta get out more," Clint joked wearily. At his voice, Mark moved his chair back a bit and looked Clint up and down. How Mark could see him properly, he didn't know. Probably used to the darkness by now.

"Clint! Brother, what… I mean, cool. Yea. Cool," Mark's voice did not reflect his body at all. His voice, deep and sturdy yet flowing and comfortable. Everything sort of went to ease when he talked. But his perfect voice trailed off as he moved papers and photos around. Cling grabbed his arm and brought him back to focus. Both the Terry children were having trouble these days, he thought to himself. He found himself wondering how much Mark and Mary saw each other. Mary had taken the mother role of her little brother, but how well was she copying.

Not now. Be a decent human being afterwards.

"What is it, Clint? I mean, brother, there is gonna be a pretty good reason for you to be here and it ain't got nothing to do with business if Mary let you in? What is it? I'm done with drugs, if that's what you're looking for, but I got some wine in the fridge just there-"

"Mark. I need you to track someone for me," Clint paused as Mark gathered this information. Having been by himself for such a long time, he hadn't had the opportunity to speak to anyone. He had also forgotten the basic, talk/listen routine. "Why else would I be here?"

"Of course, I er, will help you then. I've been working on…" He checked himself. He was cautious telling people what he was working on. It wasn't exactly illegal but there were definitely people out there that wouldn't like what he was doing. But hey, this is Clint Barton. His best mate since first grade. If he couldn't trust Clint, who could he trust? "Russia. Russia has been doing some dodgy stuff lately. Sending out spies and military men to towns in Northern Greenland. Only half as many that go out, return. Something is killing them there. From all my data put together, I've figured that there is something there that the people of Greenland don't want Russia to get. The governments are keeping it hush hush. But the thing I can't get is what's killing them. I've researched disease and nuclear waste history in Greenland, I've looked at wild life and I've checked out Greenland's security system. There is nothing there that could kill that many spies and soldiers. Also, they aren't staying there because there is no trace of population going up and no trace of loss of lives. You see, if people that aren't supposed to be there died, no one's gonna tell anyone about it, are they?"

Clint didn't interrupt him because all this information was very relevant, even though Mark didn't know it. Natasha had been staying in Greenland. Clint was sweating enormously and almost hyperventilating. Natasha had been sent to Greenland, she was sent there! She said she was dying, or was going to be killed. Clint slammed his hand on the des to stop himself falling over. Mark jumped.

"This person, they… they sent me a letter. She did. She's in Greenland. I need to know where, ok? Here," He took the letter out of the folder. He had kept it in tack and unfolded. He handed it to Mark who noticed how much care he was taking and did so to. He laid it out in front of him, on top of all the other papers. He looked at the letter. Clint couldn't tell what he was looking for but it must've been important. He got out a slim, metal box. It had several words smudged on it with a Sharpie. LAND INDENTIFICATION UNIT it read. Mark opened it and pulled out something that looked like tweezers but with tiny teeth at the end. He bent in close and then leaned back out. He was taking his sweet time. He put some chunky glasses and leaned in again. Very carefully he picked at something in the paper. It took several tries until he ripped not quite all the way through the paper. He took the little section of paper, barely visible, and put it in a dish. Clint was worried that it had blown away, it was that small. Mark held the dish in a cautious gloved hand and moved it slowly and steadily towards a weird looking device. It had a slit big enough to fit the dish and a screen beneath it. It was slim and shiny, looked as if it hadn't been used before. He put the dish in the opening and pressed his hand against the screen. It buzzed to life and made some whirring and clicking noises.

"Ok, almost got it," Mark muttered under his breath as he focused on the machine. It gave a last, lazy click before spitting the ray out. He ditched the tray and picked up the machine. He held it up to his eyes as he read the results. "Yep, Greenland. It came straight from Greenland. Northern Greenland, a little town called… Well… In English it's Glowing City. 79 population. One of them is your girlfriend,"

"What? She's not… no we're just…" Clint trailed off, checked himself, and then piped back up. "So, you've pinpointed it? Exactly?" He was rubbing his hands together heatedly. He constantly ran his hand through his hair.

"Exactly," Mark looked at his companion in a now-what? way. Clint stared off into the distance, focusing, thinking. He needed to get there as quick as possible. He would definitely need to take someone with him, but who-

"Mark?" Mark inclined his head, "Will you come with me?" He asked. For a second, it looked as if Mark hadn't heard him. But then he jumped up on his skinny legs and danced around the room for a bit. He grabbed bits and pieces and chucked them all in a bag he was suddenly carrying. He ran to the wall and flicked the lights on. Suddenly the whole lab was illuminated with bright white light. It was about three times the size Clint thought it was. Mark was jumpy around as if the floor was on fire. He was ecstatic! In no less than two minutes he had his bag packed and had changed into more suitable clothing for going out.

"Yes. I'd be happy to! Also, brother, you're gonna like this! I've got a er, colleague that owes me a favour. He'll be able to take us!" Mark's beaming face made Clint smile too. He jumped up and followed him up the ladder.

Mary's face when she saw her brother was a combination of confusion, wonder and knowing. She smiled softly as she saw Clint follow.

"Well, this is unusual," she said as she tripped over a wire and dropped the pizza she was carrying. Mark dived for it and returned it to her. He kissed her on the forehead.

"This is it, Mother Mary!" He jumped and span around, Mary blushed. She was happy for him but this meant she was officially alone. Clint felt pity for her but there was nothing he could do. He patted her on the back before rushing out after Mark. The couple he had seen before were still there, cuddling in the corner and sharing a drink. The pang returned harder than last time. He put a hand to his stomach. By the time he left the restaurant Mark was already in the passenger seat, arranging the letter and his GPS on the dash. Clint jumped in eagerly after him.

He looked at Mark for instructions.

"Go to…"