Thank you SO much to:::

discordchick : HEHEHEHE... expect some fun surprises to come!

amy. .9 Rinon is a little well of who-knows-what's-gonna-happen:)

Batghost: Rocket has been SO much fun to write. I never anticipated how much until now. And you are COMPLETELY right. some how I mixed up the spelling. Ronan the Accuser it is!

Ms. Hawkeye things are gettin hairy...!

m klindt all the musical prowess of my reviewers gives me the warm and fuzzies:)

Fury-Natalia I didn't think i'd see the day either, but you know gamora just started whispering to me and crap happens

I Can Hear the Drums

Chapter 20

Hyacinths and oleander, mixed in the scents of rose, lily, and baby's breath. The green foliage swept together in the artificial wind that crossed Natasha's path, carrying with it a packet of seeds that caught on the air and danced by. She'd seen so little of the Voiya Rose already, that the quest to find Rinon again took her to the very heart of the ship itself. She had no idea that its core was so teaming with life.

A door slid back, allowing her to enter nothing less than the very jungles of Earthenden or Woodrenkell. Massive trees intertwined in a canopy above her head, hiding within its limbs the sounds of foreign birds and the buzz of insects, though she saw none. The sounds seemed to move, and yet they repeated. A loop of echoes that surrounded her on all sides, in a completely immersive world within a world. She tracked down the closest of them, and swept her hand to the side of a copse of massive leaves. A sound player was embedded into the growing bark of an oak. An artificial environment.

Tony had built something like this in Stark Tower's food court, though on a much smaller scale. He'd stop short of growing real grass and real trees, though the facsimiles were impossible to tell from the authentic. Leave it to Alfheimr to take that extra step where no one else could. Above her, the canopy lit up as a slow-building rumble took over the sky. A sprinkler system was raining somewhere port side. It might have been another half mile before she reached it to see. If Rinon was hiding anywhere, this had to be it.

Since his confrontation with the two, no one had seen the general, save for his closest allies, Reylano Great Tree and Yiri Mist Watch. Natasha wasn't looking for an opportunity to kiss and make up, but she did want answers. Getting those out of an elf like Reylano, had about as much effect as cleaning a grease vat with lard. He virtually swore an oath of silence, leaving the Avengers more confused and disengaged since before they entered the peculiar halls of Rinon's flagship. If they'd been back on the Gateway, she might have appealed to his ie-koh, Fehreh. The former queen was the diplomat of the relationship, and having the two separated, resulted in a peculiar sort of seclusion in the elf. Fehreh might have spilled all their secrets, despite her loyalty to him.

Stark searched for a while but complained about needing a nap. Most likely he wanted a chance to spy around the ship without being discovered. He seemed different since leaving Earth behind. He kept to himself more, hid in his room and managed the lab work from there. She figured it was because of Clint and Banner being gone. Tony was never quite right without his male buffers.

"Rinon?" Natasha called into the wilderness around her. She didn't expect to run into any actual wildlife here, though she was keenly aware of the dangerous beasts lurking in the real Woodrenkell. The Faralirs with their antlered feline heads, a double death to those threatening to cross them. Rinon's four dire wolves, too, posed just as a much a threat as any able bodied soul. She knew at least one of them was on the ship. It was a female, Laice, and littermate to Clint's old wolf Arrow. Where Arrow formed an impenetrable bond with Clint, Laice had found Rinon. He never traveled far without her by his side.

The woodland offered no reply to her call beside the rhythmic flow of synthetic sound. Natasha continued to push through it, crossing babbling brooks, whose waters flowed through platforms of pebbles. She swept massive ferns aside, their gentle edges caressing her hair like the rim of a feather. Here, the scent of earth, rain, lightning, and growth permeated like a mist. It wasn't long before she forgot completely that she was on a ship that rocketed through space faster than the speed of light.

The sound of a scuffle turned her head to the left. She'd been following the thunder of a waterfall. The idea of seeing it had placed her initial mission of finding the elf to the back of her mind. A sense of exploration replaced the need to be diligent, but the apparent existence of sentient life returned Natasha to her wits again. She heard the expulsion of air from two hanging jowls, the chuff of a wolf, and circled a slab of rock wall to find its owner.

"Hello, Laice." Natasha said, smiling.

The wolf's head was massive, like a boulder sitting on five foot legs and a body as long as a Chevy Cruise. The size of the rest of her was more equitable to a draft horse than any current member of the canine species found on Midgard. The wolf extended her nose and sniffed Natasha's shirt. No doubt she could smell Barton on her.

"He's not here." Natasha explained. After years of working with Arrow, she stopped feeling strange about conversing with wolves. There was something different about their species. They might not be able to speak the way a human could, but they understood very well.

Laice seemed disappointed. She wasn't bonded to Barton by any means, but he used to be a wolf owner once. That was a rare occurrence in any realm. When Arrow was killed by Clint's own brother, he was never the same again. He didn't want another dog, but he eventually acquired a one-eyed mongrel from his deceased wife, Marie. Lucky lived at the archery range now, enjoying the treats all the customers brought in for him.

"I thought you may come for me."

Laice lifted her head away to reveal Rinon sitting on the waterfall bank. His back was to Natasha as he considered the ripples of water stretched below him. His regal clothes and tricolored swords were gone. He was sitting plainly in an old doublet as he stripped a long leaf down along its veins and set it floating into the pool. Laice returned from the side of the falls, and trotted away from them. There was a stone slab jutting from the water, creating a T-shaped platform with a cleverly placed fallen oak. The dire wolf mounted the tree, and settled down on it. Her chin propped between the dinner plate-sized paws to watch them.

Natasha laid her hand under Laice's chin, and rubbed the tuft of fur there as she moved past to sit at his side. The water was covered in the little leaf rafts he'd already set sail. "I came to talk," she said.

"Veň aê ulilö, ni." No, you (have) come to listen, he replied.

"I don't speak any elvish."

"I forget." Rinon tore another strip, analyzed its edges, and set it into the water.

"You are one of the strongest leaders I've ever known. Which says a lot. I don't compliment people very often. Clint thinks the world of you, which is enough for me most days." Natasha reached into the pool, and picked up a handful of his scraps. "What you are doing now, though, is scaring a lot of people that are looking for a someone to hang out to dry." She plopped the handful down beside his knee. "You aren't acting sane."

Rinon was midway through tearing a second piece when Laice lifted her head. She huffed, thumping her trunk-sized tail into the log. The leader's hands froze. His entire body seemed to stiffen, from the fingers, to the arms, then upward until his head began to angle back as if looking at the sky. His eyes were opened, unfocused. He stopped breathing.

"Rinon?" Natasha asked. Her concern piqued, the more still he became. This wasn't just elven mannerisms taking him over. Something was seriously wrong. "Rinon!"

She went to grasp his arm, but the wolf suddenly snarled, shocking her into pulling back. Natasha looked over to see whether or not a gape of open jaws were currently aimed for her head, but Laice had lost interest in her. She seemed only to want to prevent Natasha from touching him, nothing more. If that was all it took to not get devoured, then Natasha felt no shame in following orders.

Rinon continued to stare into nothing. He didn't blink, move, or speak. His entire attention was focused someplace far away, as if he'd been absorbed into a type of seizure. Laice was mildly concerned, but not enough to leave the comfort of her log so long as Natasha kept her distance.

After a time, Rinon's entire body sank. He hit the grass in a heap as if he'd been held up by only the invisible strings of some hidden puppeteer. He gasped to return the swells of oxygen to his deprived lungs. Natasha closed in again, and with him beginning to come around, Laice made no objection to it.

"Can you hear me, now? Can you see me?" She asked, her hands hovering over the perspiration that erupted on his forehead.

"Ylḕvru, vrala-ie-ae. They come more often now. Fiercer, as we draw closer to the Nine Realms. I do not wish to frighten you."

Suddenly his distance, Reylano's fierce protectiveness made sense. Rinon might have found out years ago, and taken steps to preserve his realm in the aftermath. Natasha realized all at once they had him all wrong. He'd made his pact between himself and Thor. If Rinon died, that truce with Asgard might crumble. An armada created for their safety assured some semblance of protection. Stepping down from his reign, too, fit into that scenario. Natasha wasn't sure why she hadn't seen it sooner.

"You're ill?" She guessed. "That's what you told Clint. How bad is it?"

Rinon remained on his back for a time, attempting to absorb what his body wanted to reject. "We have discussed something of the sort," he admitted.

"You made Clint swear not to tell us?"

"I did not find the necessity." He slowly pushed himself up. Natasha helped him lean back against the side of the waterfall stones. He was shaken, but recovering, from the fit he had.

"I guess you're right, because he didn't say anything to us about it." She shook her head a little as she sighed. "It figures."

"You do not seem surprised at this discovery," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"I guess I should be, but nothing else has gone right, lately. Why should this? I just thought that maybe, for once, I would get something that I wanted. I didn't even know I wanted it. I didn't even think I could have anything good in this life, and it looks like I've been right all along." Natasha turned her face away toward the once crystal pool filled with leaf stems. Laice watched her, thumping her tail as if to bring a smile to Natasha's face. The move only reminded the Avenger of Arrow, which brought memories of Clint, and that nearly felled her.

Rinon reached forward, and placed his hand around her arm. Natasha pulled away from the intimate embrace out of habit more than melancholy. She even offered an apologetic smile. Not many ever received that rarity from her.

"I want to help," Rinon said.

"If you're dying, I don't see how you can," Natasha replied. She nodded toward him. "So what is it, anyway? Has Banner quantified your every ail with that new lab he's been graced with? You don't have the UIC virus do you?"

He shook his head from left to right. The silver locks falling out of place with the movement.

"Cancer? Do elves get cancer?"

Another shake. No.

"Then what is it?"

"I am not dying." But someone, close to us, is, he wanted to add, but kept the words to himself. He might on occasion feel the death rattles that come with a loved one facing his imminent demise. Telling her that these visions, the pain he was swamped in stemmed most likely from his connection with Barton would not help ease her mind.

The corner of Natasha's mouth downturned slightly. Her eyes narrowed. "Ok, you've got me."

"The Sarhorn told you that I might save Barton's life if I remained close to him."

The confusion deepened. Natasha's body spun toward him as she scrutinized the crevices in his face. Nothing, again, communicated the depth of his thoughts to her. He was as much that alabaster statue now as he ever was. "How could you know what he told me? We were alone. I know we were alone, and I haven't told anyone about that night. Even Clint."

"It does not matter how I know. What matters, are the steps we take from this point," Rinon replied simply. He spread his hands, and laid them on his knees. "We have a severe dilemma laid before us. It may help if you knew the full depth of it. I have come here attempted to see a way around it, but have found none."

"Tell me."

"Midgard is under attack."

:(:):(:):

Clint stood across from the visage of Ronan the Accuser, deceased Kree warlord and Herald for Galactus, with every measure of precaution he could take. Rocket stood to his left with what amounted to a canon in his hands, perched on Groot's shoulders. Quill had two rifles and one grenade launcher. A finger, somehow, on every trigger. Gamora's longsword waited to taste its second round of Kree blood. Drax simply slammed one fist into the other, and hoped to be unleashed. Loki stuck closely to Clint's side, and prepared for anything.

The exploding arrow did damage. The silver armor mushroomed outward from the point of impact like a flower blossom, and exposed a second, harder shell beneath. Clint had a second arrow already waiting to be used, and planned to center it right over that chest piece. The robe, which once covered Ronan's face, lay in a tattered mass, blowing in the breeze like a forgotten old flag. Ronan's lifeless, black eyes continued to stare at nothing.

"Thing about a shark; it's got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eyes. When it comes at you, it doesn't seem to be livin'... until he bites you – " Peter quoted, in his best impression of the famous JAWS sea captain. He smiled at Barton, who did not smile back. "Aww, come on, that was funny!"

"You!"

The entire line jumped back, as Ronan finally spoke for the first time since they exited the ship. Peter fired two of his three rifles, Rocket released his first massive power blast, and the others ran backward a comfortable distance to avoid the fallout from all three.

"Dude, that scared the absolute crap out of me," Quill admitted, holstering his left gun via the strap around his chest, and swiped his hand over his face. "The last time we beat this guy, all I had to do was dance. I think we need some tunes."

Now, Clint looked at him. "You did what?"

"We had a dance off."

"You cannot possibly be serious," Loki said.

"Oh, he's serious all right," Rocket replied, cranking back the firing pin on his proton blaster, and ejecting his first spent cartridge. "Shoulda seen the look on the guy's face."

As the dust, smoke, and fire settled from the three shots they landed, Ronan stepped forward to meet them again. His mouth opened, and this time no one cut him off short. "My master is returning to claim what is his. You are all standing in the wake of his coming glory. None in the universe shall stand when his mighty hand falls. I require the Infinity Gauntlet to complete my task. You will surrender it to me for a quick death in return."

Rocket pulled the trigger on his second proton shell, and landed a direct hit to the Herald's face. He shrugged at the others. "What? He was being all creepy. People like that freak me out."

The Herald took another step forward, the long samurai-like helmet that once framed his face suffered similar damage to that of his chest piece. He paid it no heed.

"I have come to control what it is you fear."

Simultaneously, his arms raised, the massive hammer arcing into the air. He spread his hands out to either side of him, and suddenly, a great shriek escaped from his body. Clint crumbled back between Loki and Peter. They covered their ears against the sonic blast, but could do nothing to stop the physical attack when the Herald's hands came smashing together like the Hulk himself.

Barton struggled to right himself. He pulled the arrow nock against his string, and meant to let it go, but his target shifted out of his line of sight. In fact, he completely split in half. Clint kept the tension on his bowstring as he watched the massive form of Ronan divide into much smaller forms. He duplicated like one of the X-men might, and soon, there were many of them ringing the group in a circle. They had slightly altered shapes. Their sizes had fractioned, and some began to shift their form altogether.

Clint watched the alterations of the others, while his own took form.

Peter stood across from Ronan still. Drax, however, was met with the sight of Thanos. Gamora had an unknown assailant. Loki saw the old leader of Jotenheim, his biological father, Laufey. A real life Texas Chainsaw Massacre man revved the engine to his gas propelled weapon opposite of Groot, and a white coated scientist wielding an electrified catch pole stood beside him for Rocket.

Fears, Clint told himself, looking at them all. This wasn't Ronan, Thanos, or any of the others. This was a single peculiar being unlike anything he'd ever faced before, who somehow managed to channel their very fears into a physical shape. He had no doubt these specters would give just as hard of a wallop as the real thing. He gulped, pulling his pull string a little tighter as he decided to look at what old foe had come for him.

Clint released the arrow prematurely. He quaked on his knees, and dropped into the moon sand as he saw the man.

It wasn't possible.

It couldn't be.

He'd buried him once and for all.

It was...his father.

holy crap, holy crap... Midgard under attack? Tony? and Clint's daddy issues?!

Next time: Clint revisits childhood, Rinon's vision, Natasha begins to change, and a missing elf

Thank you for being so kind with you reviews! Please keep them up!