Story Timeline. 3rd week of September 2013
A challenging mission has been successfully accomplished, but the team's euphoria is shattered by news of an attack that affects them all.
Coulson takes a risk and Tasha demonstrates her interrogation skills.
References to violence
"Well, I think we can all consider that a job well done" Tony Stark proclaimed happily as he cracked open a bottle of bourbon. Natasha threw him an exasperated look. He knew there was no alcohol allowed aboard the Quinjets but always managed to lay his hands on some; it wouldn't surprise her if he had secret compartments built into his suits.
"Unfortunately," he continued "the glasses went down with the other ship so we'll just have to share germs."
He swallowed a mouthful and waved the bottle in the general direction of the others with a questioning expression. Steve looked unamused
"Stark, you know Fury's rule about this!"
The billionaire gave a dismissive wave
"I prefer to think of it as a broad general guideline. Besides, we're on our way back from a mission, a very successful one in the circumstances! We've survived an Electro-Magnetic-Pulse attack, an unscheduled crash, our very own live-action Cannibal Holocaust experience and completed the job we set out to do. The Hydra weapons have been secured, the artefact smugglers dealt with and we got through it all without Pidgeon either breaking something or soiling himself…"
"Fuck you, Stark!" responded Hawkeye with an angry glare, grabbing the bourdon and swallowing a mouthful "That's only ever happened once and I was falling ass first towards razorwire at the time"
Tony took the bottle back and had another drink, remembering Clint's embarrassment with malicious pleasure. No-one had been too keen to sit near him on the way back from that mission.
"Well, if that's the case, when we get home I'll tell Nanny McPhee you're ready to move into big-boy pants."
Natasha laughed and relieved Tony of the liquor, at least if they all had some he wouldn't arrive for the debrief in Bogota falling-down drunk.
"You do realise Ainsley would not be pleased to hear you're still calling him that"
Tony scowled comically
"I know. He'd probably do something extreme like go 'tsk!' and put the milk in before the tea."
Steve grinned and held his hand out for the bottle. Stark had a point. The mission had started as a complete disaster; their Quinjet being downed by an EMP weapon before even reaching the rendezvous point. They'd been stuck in the jungle with no electronics, no communications and just the most basic equipment. Barton's hearing aids had only kept working because Stark had upgraded them to be EMP-resistant, either that or the archer had a lead-lined skull. Jury was out on that one.
Stark had been predictably obnoxious about that, of course, until Natasha pointed out that if he'd bothered to upgrade his suits with the same technology they wouldn't be in this mess. They'd all agreed not to talk about the unanticipated 'green-out' situation for the moment. Dr Banner had been unable to grab a parachute in time when Thor smashed their way out of the plummeting jet and had hulked in mid fall, landing very angry indeed.
Luckily the 'lullaby' that Br Banner and Natasha had been experimenting with worked in practise, but Thor had been badly knocked about while from keeping the raging Hulk away from the unconscious pilot. It had been a close call and Dr Banner was still shaken by it. He had needed to transform again, this time deliberately, once they located the EMP generator. Twice in such a short space of time was a severe strain on his system and he sat in a corner resting quietly. Normally he would be immersed in his favourite classical mixes but his sPod had been fried along with the other electronics on the downed Quinjet. The others were leaving him to himself until he felt ready to talk.
He passed the bottle over to Thor who was lying back across the seats, resting his badly bruised ribs. The Asgardian took it and chugged the remaining bourbon to Barton and Stark's squawks of protest.
"It is medicinal," he rumbled with a mischievous wink at Steve "there will be more when we land."
They arrived at the military airfield just outside Bogota around 6pm local time. Tony figured that gave them time to debrief, shower and change before sampling a bit of the local nightlife. Flying back to New York could wait until tomorrow. Fury was waiting for them when they landed, looking his usual grim-faced self.
That man is never pleased about anything.
"Well, Fury?" he asked, beaming "No laurel wreaths for the conquering heroes?"
The Shield Director's words took the smiles of all their faces
"I regret to have to tell you; Dr Kerr was attacked in New York two days ago; his condition is critical."
###
"What is this 'coding'? And how can he be 'critical' and 'comfortable' at the same time? This makes no sense, tell me plainly what has happened to Ainsley!"
There was a growing edge of anger and desperation in Thor's voice. Bruce could feel his distress and empathised with it. Medical doublespeak was frustrating enough if you knew the hard meanings beneath the blandly comforting words. Without that context, it sounded like total nonsense. To the Asgardian it must seem as if he was being deliberately misled about his lover's condition. He went over and sat down beside Thor, taking his hand.
"Thor; Ainsley was stabbed six times in the chest and stomach, we're very lucky he wasn't killed outright. The blade missed his heart but punctured a lung, there was also damage to other internal organs. He lost a great deal of blood and his heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital and they had to revive him, that's what they mean by 'coding'. They've operated, but now he's under heavy sedation to give his body the chance to heal itself."
He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself as he explained the cold facts of the situation. He glanced over at Natasha and gave her a re-assuring nod. Having had two 'episodes' in the last four days, they were worried that this new shock might trigger a third. He didn't think there was a risk of that just now but he could never be completely sure.
"He's on machines to help him breathe and to monitor his vital signs. Once he shows signs of improving they'll begin to reduce the sedation until he's able to breathe on his own."
Thor nodded with a sigh of relief. That finally made sense. Warriors of Asgard were trained to enter a Sleep that would help them in healing their battle wounds; of course, a scholar like Ainsley would need healers to carry out this task for him.
"When will he awaken?"
Bruce swallowed nervously. Thor was clearly doing what he often did and mentally translating what he was being told into the terms of how things happened on his own world.
"We don't know yet." He had to take another couple of deep breaths, pushing his surging anger back into the Safe Place. "Thor, there's still a very real chance he may die."
There, he'd said the words no one in the room wanted to acknowledge. The Asgardian's face contorted with grief and denial
"No, he cannot…" he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes.
Clint felt like he was going to be sick, he could see by the look on Tasha's face she felt the same. The weapon had been a sheath-knife, a six-inch blade with serrated edge, like the one he carried. He'd taken down men three times Doc's size and ten times tougher with a single strike. It seemed almost impossible he could have survived the effects of an assault like that.
"How did it happen?" Tony demanded. He wanted to be on his way back to New York now but Fury wanted to get all this out while they were still down on the ground; releasing the immediate tension and anger before they were 30,000 feet in the air.
Director Fury kept his voice steady and controlled as he spelled out the details. Although he would rarely admit it aloud, he liked and respected Dr Kerr greatly; valuing the way he helped deal with the tensions amongst this volatile and unbalanced group of people. Since the urbane psychologist came on board they had been functioning more as a team and less like a 6-person car-crash.
The witness reports stated Dr Kerr had been at his usual table outside the café they often went to. The waitress recalled that as the doctor was getting up to leave, a scruffily dressed adolescent male approached him and asked him for money. As Dr Kerr reached for his wallet the young man pulled out a knife and stabbed him repeatedly before trying to run. The assailant was brought down by two NYPD officers who were on the scene and was now in SHIELD custody.
"Do we know who the assailant is?" asked Natasha. She was asking Fury but her eyes were on Clint. He was staring fixedly at the surface of the table, face flushed; breathing fast and hard. She was afraid he was going to start hyperventilating.
"He gave his name as Abel Walsh." There was no way to sugar-coat this "He said he was cancelling his father's paycheck."
The back of Clint's chair banged hard on the floor as the archer leapt up and marched from the room. They could hear his fist striking repeatedly on the wall outside as he screamed out his anger. Steve made to get up and follow him but was stopped by an urgent shake of the head from Natasha. She knew Clint's moods, this was one step short of full Barton Crazy. If anyone went out there just now, he would start hitting them instead.
Tony inhaled deeply
How much more of this can Pidgeon take before he snaps completely?
"Well this is a magnificently fucked-up situation." He looked at Fury "When can we be on our way back to New York? Also, I need a new handset; my phone is still fried and there are some calls I must make. You also might want to line up some soothing music for Bruce."
Pepper, I need to speak to her; God knows what state she must be in.
He was registered as the doctor's official next-of-kin and held Power of Attorney to act on his behalf if necessary. He would need to call Ainsley's family lawyers in London, find out what arrangements he had in place. He shivered, even thinking about it felt like admitting there was no hope for that fussy, irritating, kind and indispensable little man.
Clint came back in; flexing his raw, bloody knuckles.
"Haven't broken 'em, don't worry."
He sat down next to Thor on the other side from Bruce, putting his arm around the Asgardian in a silent embrace and resting his head on the warrior's shoulder. Fury gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement and continued.
"There's a transport arranged to take you direct to New York; it's ready to go when you are. I'll arrange to have new handsets on board"
It would be almost 6 hours before they got back. It was going to be a tough trip.
Natasha's mind was occupied with the words from the police report 'I wanted to cancel my dad's pay check."
Only a handful of people knew the real relationship between Ainsley and Hawkeye, although there was inevitably gossip about the closeness between the two men; especially given Clint's current reputation in some sections of SHIELD as a 'backstabbing cocksucker'. Officially, the only link between them was their mutual connection to the intelligence organisation; Clint as Tony Stark's SHIELD 'Handler' and Ainsley as 'Special Consultant' to the Science and Technology Division.
Abel Walsh clearly knew his father had some sort of close relationship with Ainsley, she could hazard a guess at what he thought it was but didn't want to cloud her mind with speculation. She had to speak to him.
One thing was certain; it was unlikely that he could have obtained that sort of information unaided. They knew that Clint's brother had previously been used as a SHIELD asset and still had contact or contacts unknown he was using to stay one step ahead of them. It was highly possible the same contacts were providing Barney with information about the personal relationships among the team.
"I need to speak to the boy."
They all looked at her, except Thor. The Asgardian brooded, fingering the pendant Ainsley had given him. His other arm was round Clint's shoulder, holding him tight as if the physical contact was the only thing restraining his rage. Fury's expression told her he had been considering the same option.
"Let me speak to the boy when we get back. I can find out everything he knows without creating further complications."
Everyone's attention was on Fury now, and how he would respond. He looked round at them all, seeing their doubts and the unspoken questions.
"I have no intention of handing a 17-year-old boy over to an interrogation team. Once back in New York, Agent Romanoff will take personal charge of questioning Abel Walsh until further notice."
###
Steve dealt another hand of Patience. They'd been in the air for four hours. Still two to go before they got back. Fury had wrapped up the rest of the debrief as quickly as possible, aware of the urgency they all felt. Stark had called Ms Potts as soon as he got his new handset, putting her on speaker so they could all hear. Her voice was hoarse from crying. Dr Kerr had coded again and needed emergency surgery for continued abdominal bleeding. She broke down while telling them that one of the doctors, knowing Dr Kerr to be Catholic, had suggested she might want to call a priest.
No-one was speaking much. Dr Banner was asleep, his head resting on Natasha's lap. She appeared to be sleeping as well but Steve suspected she was wide awake, reviewing the situation and considering strategies. Thor and Barton sat together in silence, whatever words they had to share would not be for the ears of the others. He'd seen that before, when two men who fought together had lost someone they both loved
Dr Kerr's not dead yet; and what can you say to your friend when your son has stabbed the man you both love?
He caught Stark's eye. There was an understanding between them. Even if Fury wanted, there was no way he would be able to keep them away from this case. It had been personal before but now they'd been hit right in the heart. Abel Walsh was just the weapon. Whether Dr Kerr lived or died, they would find the man responsible and show him exactly why they merited the name Avengers.
Eventually the "Fasten Your Seatbelts" sign lit up and they began their descent.
###
Agent May checked the message on her phone. It was from Ward at the landing strip
"They've just landed. We should leave now." She glared at the man standing beside her "This was a bad idea."
"You think everything's a bad idea" replied Coulson, still looking down at the man in the ICU bed. "I had to see him. This shouldn't have happened"
May shook her head
"It's not your fault." She hated that self-doubt in the older man's eyes. Sometimes he expected too much of himself
"Isn't it? If we'd got to the boy first…"
"You could have saved him like you did his father? You can't take responsibility for everything and everyone. Let's go"
She took his arm and steered him towards the emergency stairs. He glanced back as they left
"Fury should've let him consult with us. With his abilities, we'd be much further forward than we are."
And I really want to take a spin in the doctor's car
She sighed, this again. Fury had made it plain several times that letting Dr Kerr near any of the team would be a mistake. Agent Hill's roundabout request for a psychological evaluation of Barney Barton had led to a series of subtly probing questions about why the investigating team wasn't asking for this directly. Someone like Sky or FitzSimmons would be an open book to him.
"You know what Fury said, it can't be guaranteed that he would keep your survival a secret from the Avengers."
Coulson nodded. It was frustrating, but Agent May was right. The doctor's allegiance was to the Avengers. He could not be trusted to keep SHIELD's secrets at the expense of lying to his friends.
There was the other possibility why Fury wanted to keep them apart; if Dr Kerr was even half as gifted as his grandmother had reputedly been, he might just be able to work out exactly what did happen in Tahiti.
###
It hadn't seemed real until they were standing there; as if a bad joke were being played on them and Ainsley was waiting back at the Penthouse with coffee and sandwiches; anxious to assure himself they were safe and well and eager to hear about their adventures. He was pallid, almost grey against the harsh white hospital sheets. A breathing tube was down his throat and machines sat all around the bed; monitoring and measuring heartbeat, blood pressure and brain activity. Clint watched through the window as Thor's composure finally gave way and he wept helplessly by his lover's side.
It should be me in there. I'm the one who's supposed to break himself on missions. Doc was just having his lunchtime coffee, probably wondering if there was anything new worth seeing at the Guggenheim
He felt someone put their arms around him as his own tears started to flow.
Tony had already taken Pepper home. The Stark Industries CEO was on the brink of collapse from stress and exhaustion. With everyone else away and out of contact she'd been dealing with this by herself for three days solid.
Steve touched Thor's shoulder lightly to attract his attention
"The other's will be leaving soon, Stark's sent a car and driver; ICU rules only allow for a maximum of two visitors at any one time. You want me to keep you company?"
Thor shook his head
"The doctors tell me that Ainsley may still be able to hear me. I do not know if that is true, but there are private things I want to say to him. You should go with the others and rest, but ask Clint if he wishes to stay. Tell him I would like that and so would Ainsley."
Steve hugged the big warrior close
"Sure will, and I'll be over later to see how you're doing."
###
Thor found Clint waiting for him in the Visitor's lounge
"Would you like to be alone with him for a time? I will come and join you both later."
"Thanks Blondie" He handed him a cup "I got you some hot chocolate, I asked them not to put too many marshmallows in but…"
Thor's looked unhappily down at the gloop floating on the surface. It would stick to his beard and Ainsley wouldn't be there to fuss over him with a damp napkin.
"Only Beth knows how I like it…" his voice tailed off. She had been talking to Ainsley just before he was attacked. There was a kind card from her and the others at the café beside the bed. He would go and say thank you later. Clint gave his shoulder a squeeze
"What I got to say won't take too long. Come back soon, he'll want us both there."
There was something Thor needed to say to him first. The old codes of Asgard were strict, blood must pay for blood, and he would exact that price in full but there was one thing his friend must be told.
"You have my word I will not seek vengeance on your son, even if Ainsley dies. He would not wish me to do such a thing and I would not think it honourable. I cannot give the same promise about your brother; it is on his head that the blood-debt rests and I will exact full payment ."
Hawkeye took Thor's hand in both of his, holding it tight against his chest so the Asgardian could feel the steady beat of his heart.
"I give you this promise, Thor. We'll make him pay together."
###
Clint sat down beside Ainsley's bed. The room was silent except for the bleeping of the machines and the artificial wheezing of the respirator. He'd see if they could get some music in here. Doc liked Mozart best of all, called it his 'brain-oil'
He leaned over and softly kissed the doctor's forehead.
"Stay with me, Doc." He whispered "I can't go on without you."
###
They'd taken him from the interrogation room at the precinct-house. Three men in black suits and ties. Put a bag over his head and shoved him in the back of a car. He'd wet himself, earning a punch in the kidneys. The man he'd stabbed was rich. Uncle Barney always said rich people like that owned the cops, had their own laws and guys like these who enforced them. They were gonna take him somewhere and kill him. If he was lucky they'd do it quick.
The hood had come off in a plain white room. They'd taken his clothes, made him shower then gave him a clean T-shirt, shorts and orange coverall. There was a bed fixed to the wall, a toilet and a washbasin. He'd been here three days at least, maybe one or two more, no real way to tell without a clock or a window. The lights went off when it was time to sleep and on when it was time to wake. Three meals a day brought by two big, silent men with guns and pepper sprays.
He'd yelled himself hoarse for his phone call and a lawyer. No-one had said anything more to him that "Stand up" "Sit Down" or "Face the wall"
It was like they were waiting for orders from somewhere before they did whatever they were going to do to him.
They took him to a room with a table fixed to the floor and two chairs, a long mirror down one side. Bigger and cleaner than the interrogation room at the precinct. His wrists were shackled to the table with a chain that allowed him some movement of his arms. Then they left him for what seemed like hours. There would be people behind the mirror, he knew that. Maybe the rich friends of the man he'd stabbed, sitting there to watch what was going to happen. He hoped he wouldn't wet himself again.
He looked up as the door opened. It was a woman; a real hot woman with red hair, wearing a smart black skirt and jacket. High heels too, and black stockings. She put a sandwich and a paper cup of Coke in front of him
"It's tuna salad" she said, her voice sounded European "I'm told you like that, and its Regular Coke. I can get Diet if you prefer."
"Regular's fine, thanks." He took an experimental bite out of the sandwich, it was good.
Natasha watched as the boy munched down the sandwich, swallowing it with gulps of Coke. He ate quickly and nervously; glancing up at her, the door and the mirror all the time. She'd seen Clint eat like this before, often earning a slap on the wrist from Ainsley as he bolted down a meal he and Natasha had spent all afternoon preparing. It was the legacy of childhood deprivation, time spent on the run grabbing food fast whenever possible.
Abel finished the last of the Coke and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand
"You my lawyer?" He asked. It didn't seem likely, any lawyer they got him would be one of those cheap county ones who'd tell him to plead guilty so's not to waste anyone's time. She shook her head with a funny kind of half-smile on her face
"You don't get a lawyer, Abel. We're not the police. The rules here are different and you need to start understanding that if you want to have a chance of getting through this."
"You Feds? Or something else?" The guy had been a Brit. Maybe some kinda political type or one of those fancy lords they had over there. He was in real big trouble, bigger than he ever coulda imagined. She still had that smile
"Let's stick with the 'something else'. Are they treating you okay?"
"Can't complain" he replied carefully "food's good and the place don't smell of puke. So, if you ain't my lawyer why you here?"
He was scared witless, she could tell that without even trying, putting on the false bravado of the adolescent male hopelessly out of his depth but trying to act tough in front of a pretty face. She took a file out her bag and laid it on the table.
"My name's Natasha Romanoff. I just want to ask you a few questions and try to understand why you did what you did."
The boy grimaced, still putting on the pathetic tough-guy routine he'd probably learned from too many police dramas.
"Told the cops that already. Wanted to kill the rich fag my scumbag dad was fucking."
She opened the file and carefully leafed through the pages
"Is that how your father makes his money?"
"Yeah, Uncle Barney told me. Said he fucks rich folks, don't care if it's men or women. Gets money off them and spends it on drugs and whores."
Tasha folded her hands carefully on top of the file
"I can imagine that made you very angry."
"Made me sick, that's what!" the boy exploded, his caution evaporating for the moment as his hatred took over. "Mama wasted away and died waiting for that piece of shit to show his face again, broke Uncle Barney's heart, and there's him cheating all these folks out of their money just so he can get high and get blown. Don't care if they was rich or not, no-one deserves to have that loser leech off them."
Natasha sat back in her chair, feeling the anger and resentment spilling out of the boy. She'd already come to one conclusion. If Barney was training Abel to be a killer, it was a very amateur job.
Time to throw out a bit more bait.
"Do you think that's what he was doing to Dr Kerr?"
Abel looked up at her
"That his name?"
She nodded, passing him the photograph her hands had rested on. It was a black and white shot she'd taken one afternoon at the Academy as she watched him come down the steps of the main building, joking with Dr Weaver about something. He'd been in a light summer suit with one of those open necked shirts he favoured, raincoat over one arm and laptop bag in hand; he looked so stylish, happy and relaxed she'd felt compelled to capture the moment.
It was one of her favourite pictures of him. She'd cried looking at it this earlier this morning; Clint had called from the hospital to say Ainsley was 'stable' but the doctors weren't going to try starting to reduce the sedation for another couple of days at least.
The boy looked at it for a while in silence then passed it back to her.
"He looks kinda nice. I'm sorry."
The emotion in Natasha's voice wasn't feigned
"He's the kindest, gentlest man I've ever known. Whatever you believe your father's done, Ainsley didn't deserve this."
He'd not been thinking about hurting anyone. Just wanted to know if it was all true, that his dad was as bad as Uncle Barney said. That way he could stop thinking about the shitbag for good and get on with being his own man. Uncle Barney would be mad he'd left. Any time he went away on 'business' he was meant to stay behind. 'Mind the ranch' was what he always got told, but this time he'd took some money and some of the photos that Uncle Barney's friends in New York had given him, got the bus to Burlington and the train to New York.
One of the photos showed the man coming out a building with 'Stark Tower' above the doors. He'd found it easily and waited across the road since early morning. No-one bothered to notice the skinny, scruffy boy sitting on a step.
He'd come out just after 10; guess rich folks like him didn't have to bother with early mornings or going out to make an honest dollar. Probably paid all sorts of folks to make his money for him, like he paid dad to fuck his ass. He'd followed him around all morning watching. Hated to admit it but the man didn't seem like the rich douches he'd run across before when out doing lawns and backyards with Uncle Barney. He was being nice to everyone, smiling and saying hello, treating them as real people. The waitress at the fancy street café had looked happy to see him like he was an old friend.
The man was a nice guy really, he ought to go tell him what a crooked fuck his dad was; that he only wanted his money. He'd gone up and asked for 5 bucks for something to eat. The man had said 'Of course' and taken out his wallet like it was no trouble in the world.
Things went a bit wrong then, the look the man gave him was like he recognised him or maybe he'd seen the knife. He always wore it out in the country, hadn't thought about taking it off his belt when he got dressed to leave. Then he saw the two cops coming out with coffee in their hands. He'd panicked, if he couldn't fuck up his dad one way he'd do it another. Couldn't really remember stabbing him, just the shocked look on the man's face as the knife went in, the waitress screaming, the cops dropping their coffee and grabbing him…
The boy's voice had given up a few minutes ago, now he was just sitting there crying. She closed the file and passed him some paper handkerchiefs. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose.
"He gonna be ok?
She sighed, this had been easier than she thought but no less painful
"I hope so. We don't know for sure yet"
She put the file back into her bag
"You've been very helpful, Abel, thank you. I'll be coming back tomorrow to speak to you some more. In the meantime, I'll get them to put a TV in your cell. It must be very boring in there."
He looked up at her as she stood. There was still a hunted, suspicious look in his eyes
"Why you being so nice to me after what I done to your friend?"
She looked down at him, she was smiling again. This time it was kinda sad
"Because this is what Ainsley would want me to do. I'll see you tomorrow"
"Miss Natasha, do you know my dad?"
The question wasn't unexpected. She paused with her hand on the door, weighing up what to say
"Yes. I work with him." The boy needed more, she knew that "He saved my life once, when I didn't deserve it. He's done some very bad things in his past, but he's doing his best to try and make up for them.
That should give him something to chew on overnight.
Tony watched from behind the two-way mirror impressed with what he'd witnessed. Without a direct question being asked they now knew where Barney Barton lived, what he normally did for a living and that the information about Clint and Ainsley had come to him from New York. The leak was on their own doorstep and he was going to take great pleasure in plugging it.