My updates might be a little light in upcoming days…Final exams are this week…UGH. Thanks to those of you who commented. 278 readers! YAY! I'll try to keep this moving now that I actually have readers! Oh, and I noticed that some of you commented that Kyla should know who the Avengers are because of what happened in New York…and in typical Comic Book fashion I have created a poor excuse for that…I hope you guys can get past the inconsistencies!

Oh, and Indyhead…Thanks for your advice on what to do about Coulson. For all we know, that could actually be what happened! That will DEFINATLY come up in later chapters! Again, thanks to everyone for reading and commenting and please continue to do so! THX!

-E.H.

A day came and went, and while Kyla and Clint rarely spoke there was no longer a suspicious distrust between them. In fact, if he hadn't known better, Clint would have thought that she had forgotten he was there. She went about what appeared to be her daily chores and would leave the shack for hours at a time. He never asked, but she always came back with a small handful of food and water. He had little doubt that she was stealing it, but she shared it with him as well as herself, so he wasn't in a position to complain.

Barton was still exhausted from the previous day and slept for most of the time, though he occasionally awoke to find Kyla poking at him; presumably to make sure he was still alive. He was a very light sleeper, so it didn't take much to have him up and reaching for his bow. Oddly enough, this didn't seem to alarm her much. She trusted him. Whether this trust was misguided or not, Barton would rather not think about.

It was about five o'clock in the evening when Kyla returned from another outing, this time a can of soup in her hand and a soda in the other. She tossed the drink to Clint who caught it, wincing as he moved his sore muscles. It was some off-brand of Cola, but hell, it was soda. He popped the seal and took a long swig, watching as Kyla cut into the can of soup with her knife, expertly shearing the top and pouring the contents into a pot.

"Hey, you're pretty handy with that knife." He commented, happy to find that his voice didn't sound so hoarse anymore.

"Thanks." She said tersely, snapping the knife closed and tossing it onto the table. "I used to get a lot of practice."

Clint frowned, wondering what she meant by that. He decided to avoid the topic all together.

"You remind me of a friend of mine." He said, smiling. "You two are practically twins…" He added under his breath.

"Are they in the Avengers too?" Kyla asked, curious about who else had been hand chosen to defend the Earth.

"Ugh, you won't believe me until you see them." Clint said honestly. Kyla gave him a skeptical look.

"I can climb up walls, okay? I'll believe pretty much anything."

Clint had to accept that. Something had been bothering him, however.

"Are you sure you've never heard of us? We were all over the news a couple weeks back. Alien invasion? New York City? I find it hard to believe you've never heard of us…"

"Look around..." Kyla said with a pained expression. "Does it look like I've got cable?"

"True… We'll have to show you the footage when we get back to the Helicarrier."

"The what?"

Clint shook his head. "You'll find out soon enough." He settled back onto the mat and rolled his shoulders. Where was he supposed to go from here? He was alive (albeit not 100%); he had a recruit he trusted, and absolutely no way of getting out of this hellhole with a busted leg. He hoped the team was coming to get him, but when that would happen was a bit of a grey area. Most of the team was busy at the moment, and he wasn't likely to take precedence over the safety of the free world.

"When do you think you'll be able to walk?" Asked Kyla, more out of curiosity than concern. Clint frowned and wiggled his toes. He tried bending his right knee, no issue there, then his left. He felt a sharp stab of pain all the way from his ankle to his hip. He sucked in a lungful of air to avoid a nasty round of swears and shook his head.

"Not for a while…" He said honestly. "Left leg's pretty screwed up."

Kyla nodded thoughtfully and stirred the soup she had begun cooking over the fire.

"If you're in a hurry to get out of here I can always make you a full-leg splint. That's what they do in the army." She said, shrugging.

"I know. I was in the army, kid."

Kyla didn't like being called "kid", but coming from Clint it was an almost tolerable nickname.

"Let me guess…sniper?" She said. Barton's brow furrowed.

"What gave me away?"

"You act like a sniper. Just saying, you're not a tough crowd to pick out."

Clint had to agree with that. He knew full well that he had a sniper's demeanor. He was quiet (most of the time), solitary, argumentative, and would much rather be in control, using wits and working above the fight than actually getting physically involved.

"So what are you?" He asked, again changing the subject. He didn't want to talk about war.

"Don't know…A spy, maybe? I do a lot of stuff."

"Ugh, I hate spies…" Clint muttered with a half-smile. "They're too hard to hit." He made a gun with his fingers and pretended to shoot something in the distance. This made Kyla smile a little.

"I'm a fair shot myself, but not really with a gun…"

Clint was intrigued. Another unconventional sniper? She didn't have the arms or hands of an archer and he wondered what her weapon of choice was. Looking slightly embarrassed, Kyla pulled something small and thin out of her sweatshirt pocket.

"Blow dart?" He asked, surprised. "Can't do that much damage…" He muttered with a disbelieving smirk. This had obviously been the wrong thing to say, and seconds after he had let the comment fly a small dart was sticking out of the neck of a sparrow that had been perched on a dumpster outside the window. It gave a feeble squawk and fell to the ground with a wet thud. There was a moment of silence and Clint gave his head a quick shake.

"Sorry…" He said, trying to decide whether to laugh or be very, very alarmed.

"Don't be. I get that a lot."

Barton found this hard to believe, but he didn't voice his opinion this time.

"You know once I'm back on my feet you and I should go to the shooting range some time. There's a nice one on the helicarrier…moving targets and everything."

Kyla shrugged noncommittally and stepped outside without a word for another hour. When she came back she looked a little winded and was carrying two long pieces of wood, each one about three feet long, a few pieces of rope and a roll of duct tape. She held them up for Clint to see.

"Look. Instant splint kit." She said with a light smile, which Clint didn't return.

"We going somewhere?" He asked, somewhat dreading her answer.

"Yeah, well, a friend of mine said the polícia are coming to reclaim this shed, so we should get out of here."

"Are kidding me? What do they want with it?"

Kyla shrugged, already throwing things into her backpack as she spoke.

"For the life of me, I've got no idea. It's not exactly prime real estate…maybe my shoplifting habit drew too much attention. Or…" She paused momentarily before shaking her head and resuming packing. Clint sat up on the mat and stretched.

"Or what?" He asked.

"Or…" She said, not looking at him. "Something about you drew their attention."

Now there was a thought. What if Clint's actions over the last week had gotten him in trouble with the law? He tried to recall if any cops had been watching him while he was on his mission, but he couldn't remember seeing any. If it was his fault, he at least owed her an apology.

"I don't think the police are after me…" He said, starting to flex his right leg but keeping his left immobile. "But if they are, they'll probably shoot first, ask questions later. I'm sorry."

Kyla glanced at him, but he didn't catch anything but cold understanding in her eyes. At least it wasn't anger or sadness.

"That's fine; just start wrapping up that leg." She said, tossing him the splint supplies she had brought in. "We need to get out of here."

"Out of here?" Clint said with a frown. She smiled at him and his frown deepened.

"Out of Brazil. I've been done with this place since I got here."

A A A A A A