WARNING:

This chapter as well as the next couple of chapters have Iron Man 3 spoilers in them. Since I'm mostly writing in Tyler's POV I won't reveal the key points in the plot, it is Tony who experienced them and not Tyler, but there will be references to the movie and the ending will also be revealed. Ye be warned! Don't throw tomatoes at me if you haven't watched the movie. I wrote this WHOLE paragraph specifically so that you wouldn't have to do that… Okay, rant/warning done, on to the story! :D

Chapter 9: The Truth About Tony That Cannot be Told

Okay, okay, don't panic, Tyler told herself as she stopped in her tracks. Panicking never helped anyone; it will only make you seem more suspicious.

Tyler straightened and turned around with an innocent smile on her face. She didn't move as the guard walked up to her.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded. Tyler's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Her mind whizzed through all of the protocol measures that she had learned about from Clint and Natasha. "The guard at the door let me through. I have Level Two clearance. I need this jet for my mission."

The guard shifted his weight and repositioned the large gun that he was carrying as if to remind Tyler of its presence.

"I don't recall hearing about any night flying missions," he said suspiciously. Tyler raised her eyebrow and looked at him as though he was stupid.

"That's probably because it's classified and no one is supposed to know about it," she came back quickly. Thank goodness that she was raised by Tony or she definitely wouldn't have been this good of a liar. "I've already said too much. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

She turned and stepped farther onto the platform of the jet, but the guard still wasn't satisfied.

"If you're planning on flying at night, don't you think you'll need a copilot?"

Tyler grimaced. Yes, she most definitely did. It was protocol, even when it wasn't during the night that she was flying. But did she have one? No. She turned and opened her mouth to say something, but another voice stopped her.

"That would be me," it said. Tyler leaned to her right so that she could see behind the guard and her heart did two things at once (if that was even possible). It soared because she was just saved from being taken into question, but it dropped because it was Clint who was walking toward them with his weapons and a black duffel bag in hand. The whole reason for going on this jet was to avoid him, Steve, and Natasha. There went that plan, tumbling out the door and sinking to the bottom of the ocean…

The guard turned around and looked Clint up and down. When he realized who just spoke his sense of authority fell through the floor.

"Oh, Hawkeye," he stammered, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

Clint held his hand up for silence. "It's alright; you were just doing your job. You can return to your post."

The guard nodded and hurriedly returned to making his rounds, which left Tyler alone with the deadly assassin. Her heart melted even more when Clint's eyes rested on her. For the life of her she couldn't tell what was going on inside his head but due to the slight scowl he had she took a wild guess that he wasn't thinking of giving her a cupcake. She offered a small smile so that Clint didn't bash down on her.

"Hey, Clint," she began, but was interrupted.

"Where exactly are you planning on going?" Clint asked as he moved past her and into the cockpit. Tyler stood there a moment as she stared at the spot he just left, and then she turned around with confusion written all over her face. So… he wasn't there to reprimand her? She wasn't sure what made him let her off the hook, but she took the chance and followed him before he changed his mind.

"Out of the country," she said. She abandoned all caution because it would probably hurt her situation more than help it. "Maybe India or something. I just need to go somewhere that Tony can't find me."

Clint lifted his bag and placed it into one of the compartments above the seats without flinching at the absurd idea. And he decided not to point out that she was calling Tony "Tony"instead of "Dad".

"India's actually not a bad idea," he said as he turned to the pilot's seat. "We don't have very many enemies there, but there also aren't an overwhelming amount of S.H.I.E.L.D. head quarters lying about. We'll be able to remain hidden a lot easier that way." He paused for a moment after he was seated and then turned the chair around to face Tyler. "But, we'll have to pass over Algeria to do that…"

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with Algeria?"

Clint didn't answer. Instead, he swiveled in the pilot seat and pressed the button to close the platform leading into the cockpit. Tyler rolled her eyes and pushed her bag into the compartment next to where Clint's own things were. Once the compartment was closed she sat down in the co-pilot's seat, but she highly doubted she was going to be doing anything with the controls.

Clint pulled his set of communication headphones over his ears and spoke into it as he began flipping all of the switches to turn the jet on.

"This is Hawkeye to Alpha One, do you copy?" he asked. Tyler pulled her own set of headphones on just so that she could keep track of the conversation. A moment later a wave of static made its way into her ears before a familiar voice replied.

"This is Black Widow, I will be directing your flight today. Alpha One is on a break."

Clint smiled and Tyler looked over at him with disbelief. She moved the microphone away from her mouth so that her voice wasn't picked up on the other end.

"Black Widow as in Natasha?" she questioned. Clint just continued to smile as Natasha relayed directions of where to drive the plane. It didn't take much longer for them to be on the deck of the ship and gaining speed as they moved toward the ocean. The takeoff was smooth and the climb into the air was even smoother.

"Good luck on your flight, Hawkeye," Natasha said.

"Appreciate it," Clint replied. "Hawkeye out."

Clint flipped a switch on his headphones that turned his mic off and then entered some coordinates in the GPS. Once the plane was switched to autopilot he leaned back in his seat and put his feet on the controls in front of him. Tyler raised an eyebrow but didn't question him as she pulled her headphones off of her head.

She would have been fine with sitting in the silence for the next ten hours of the flight (she would probably just sleep off her hunger and distress) but after only about five minutes of air time, Clint looked over at her.

"There a reason you smashed your phone?" he asked nonchalantly. Tyler glanced at him for only a moment before her eyes once again locked onto the ocean in front of them. No, she just liked to throw random pieces of technology at the wall to see how many shards she could break them into. Favorite pastime of the century! She ignored his question.

He continued to stare holes into her when she didn't answer. Tyler leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes in a silent refusal of acknowledging his existence at that particular moment in time. Before, she had been so surprised to see him that she let her emotional wall break a little, but she prepared it in that first five minute silence, after which she effectively-

"I know what you're doing," Clint interrupted Tyler's reassuring thoughts. Tyler sighed and opened her eyes only to stare at the ceiling above her.

"Tony's a douche," was all she replied. Clint actually had the audacity to chuckle at one of the few things Tyler took absolutely one-hundred percent seriously. She decided to give him a glare for it.

"What?" he asked innocently as he held his hands up to signal a white flag. "I just find that I completely agree with that observation. Even if you're saying it in a…" Clint stopped whatever he was going to say and looked away. He thought better of pointing out that Tyler's statement was rather childish. Tyler sharpened her glare for a moment but decided that she really didn't care. She dropped it and went back to trying to sleep. Clint, however, was relentless.

"You do realize that once Tony finds out about this he's going to come after you, right?" he asked. Tyler groaned and sat up to give Clint another one of her glares.

"What do you want from me?"

The way Clint looked at her with darkness behind his eyes and his jaw firmly clenched made Tyler seriously reconsider what she had just asked.

"Alright, fine," she nipped out before Clint could say anything. She stared out the window at the approaching New York City. Her eyes instinctively wandered across the rooftops of the skyscrapers to search for the Stark Tower. A moment later her eyes flicked to the ceiling of the jet and she continued what she was saying. "I don't care whether Tony scours the whole earth for me or goes back to playing with his little robots. I know he'll come after me, but even if he finds me he's not going to find what he's looking for."

There was a pause of silence before Clint shifted so that he was sitting upright.

"Come on, Tyler, that's not you," he said. "I know Tony can be a – rather large – asshole at times, but even you have to know that he means nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong," Tyler spat out as she, too, assumed an upright position and sent lightning through her gaze at the agent across from her. "Is that so? Why, then, did he keep his bloody little secret about me for nine years? During which he left me to my own devices in his overly giant mansion with no one except for JARVIS and occasionally Pepper to be there for me. How come he continues to neglect me as though he never adopted me?"

"He doesn't do that," Clint retaliated firmly. Tyler blinked at the sudden harshness in his voice; it caught her a little off guard. But after she got over the slight shock she scowled.

"And how the hell would you know?" she demanded. Clint paused and continued to give her a harsh stare as he thought of what to say. A scene flashed through his mind that he couldn't push away, but he wasn't sure whether he should share it either…

Clint dropped tiredly into his bed after the end of the second week of training with this Tyler kid. He had to admit that even he, in all of his stupor, failed to learn as quickly as she. He felt sort of proud of her, as though she were his little sister. That same feeling caused him to worry.

He had overheard a conversation Tyler had with Jackie – no, he wasn't spying on them, he just happened to be walking by – and the topic of the discussion caused his stomach to wrench with anger, disgust, and sympathy. Though Tyler didn't show that she was being torn apart on the inside, he could hear it in her voice and it made him want to shoot holes into whatever was causing her pain. Until he discovered that it was her father.

Tony had apparently only called once since he had brought Tyler to meet Clint and Natasha at the runway and that, though she wouldn't admit it, hurt Tyler. It didn't add up, though, since Clint had at least three conversations with Tony over the phone since Tyler came. Though Tony was a little rough around the edges, he hardly thought the man would make such a careless decision on purpose.

As if on cue, Clint's cell began vibrating on the side table next to his bed. He let out a sigh; there were only five people who knew his number. Natasha, Fury, Coulson, Jackie (how she got his number he will never know), and of course, Tony.

He knew the first three on the list wouldn't call because his room was right next to theirs, and they were already holed up and probably sleeping. It was twelve in the morning, after all. So that left Jackie, but he knew the girl loved her beauty sleep, and… Tony. Consequentially, Tony didn't give a rat's ass staying up all hours into the morning and dragging someone else into his fate of never sleeping.

Clint almost let the call go to voicemail, but he thought better of it. He needed to talk to Tony about his daughter. With a huff he threw his hand on top of the phone and answered it a split second before the automatic voice kicked in.

"Yeah?" he slurred into the phone.

"What, you sleeping already?" came the arrogant reply. Yep, it was Tony.

"Matter of fact I am. What do you want?"

Tony didn't answer right away and in the silence Clint could hear the whizzing and drilling of one of Tony's gadgets. He truthfully wasn't surprised that the billionaire was working on making another one of his alter-egos.

"Actually, I was hoping for an opinion," Tony finally said. Clint's brow furrowed.

"About what?"

"Tyler."

This got the agent to wake up and pull himself into a sitting position. Tony was coming to him for advice on his own daughter? Clint was the one who should need the advice, not otherwise!

"Speaking of your daughter," Clint began. He was cut off quite rudely.

"What colors do you think she'd want her race car to be if she had one?" Tony interrupted. Clint for the life of him couldn't figure out what he had just been asked.

All he could do was reply with a stupefied: "Huh?"

There was a heavy sigh on the other line and some more grinding noises, louder this time. Clint had to hold the phone away from his ear so that it didn't start bleeding from the high-pitched shriek.

"I thought I stated the question quite simply," Tony said once the drilling stopped. Clint put the phone back to his ear so he could hear the suddenly quite voice; it was as though Tony was now on the other side of the room. "If I were to give Tyler a race car – which I am most definitely not: she'd crash within the first two minutes of driving – what two colors do you think she'd most like it to be?"

"Umm, not pink," Clint mused rather stupidly. Another sigh.

"Well, I wasn't asking what colors she wouldn't want," Tony explained with sarcasm. Clint scowled even though he knew the billionaire wouldn't be able to see him.

"How come you don't know this?" he inquired. "She's your daughter. And why do you even want to know in the first place?"

There was a pause and Clint pulled the phone away from his ear before the grinding sound came through. He'd anticipated correctly and saved himself from gaining a headache.

"Tony," he said once the drilling died down, "what are you doing?"

"Making a suit," Tony replied as though it were completely obvious. It really was, but Clint wanted to know why Tony had the sudden interest in his daughter's favorite colors and for some reason he thought that the two didn't connect. Why would Tony want to know Tyler's favorite colors if he was making himself a suit?

"I don't know, Tony," Clint finally answered the earlier question. "If we're going by actual racing colors she'd probably like something dark like black mixed with… I dunno, silver. She's not the flashy type."

There was a slight pause again and Clint almost drew the phone away from his ear, but it was only Tony's voice that came through.

"Legolas, my man, you are a genius. Or, as much of a genius as someone with an average IQ can be."

Clint rolled his eyes.

"I love you, too, buddy," he mumbled.

The comment went unnoticed as Tony walked away from the phone again and began rummaging through whatever supplies he had in his workshop. Clint waited as patiently as he could for a few minutes, but then he realized that he really wanted some sleep. He needed to end the conversation that wasn't really happening at that moment…

"Tony," he hailed his friend. No answer. "Tony," he tried a little louder.

This graced him with a muffled, "What?!"

"Do you still have more to say or do you take pleasure in my deprivation of sleep?"

There was a large crash that made Clint jump even when he was on the other side of the phone. No way was he sleeping anymore; his senses went on the highest alert.

"What the hell are you doing?" Clint asked desperately. He knew Tony could really dig himself into a hole of workaholic tendencies, but he didn't think it was ever so bad that he fumbled clumsily about with his things to get the job done. It was as if he had downed three five-hour energy drinks or a whole case of beer. Which, truthfully, wouldn't be that far-fetched.

"I'm okay, thanks for asking," Tony replied through what sounded like gritted teeth. "You already know what I'm doing, anyway."

Clint huffed. "I know what you said you were doing, but even you don't get that crazy over just a suit."

There was the sound of metal scraping concrete as Tony shoved whatever had fallen on top of him away. Scuffling followed only seconds afterward and when Tony spoke it was no longer from across the room.

"That's because it's not *just* a suit. It's a very important suit that needs to be one-hundred percent perfect. Not that my other suits aren't perfect or anything…"

Clint raised an eyebrow. Didn't Tony say that about all of his projects, suits or otherwise? Clint didn't really find it in him to care anymore. He wanted to sleep, but first he had to get a point across to the billionaire before his exhaustion caught up with him.

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Clint asked. Tony paused, not out of distraction this time, but out of surprise.

"Why do I get the feeling that those aren't your words?" he inquired.

"They come from your daughter's mouth," Clint explained. "Why haven't you called her?"

"I have," Tony replied with hurt in his voice.

"Once."

"Better than nothing."

"Tony, this is the fourth time you've called me. Am I more important than your daughter?"

Tony laughed on the other line.

"That's funny, Robin Hood, very funny. No, you aren't more important, otherwise the suit that I am making wouldn't be for her but for you."

Clint frowned.

"The suit you're making is for Tyler?"

"Yes, stupid!" Tony almost shouted through the line. "That's why I said it wasn't an ordinary suit!"

"Tony, you always say what you're working on isn't ordinary."

"Details, details. Why did you think I needed to know what colors Tyler would want on a racing car if I gave her one?"

Suddenly things clicked. Normally Clint wasn't that slow; his weariness must have gotten to him without his notice.

"Do you really think I would even begin to try to understand your reasoning behind anything that you say?" he asked to make himself seem a little less… stupid, to put it simply. There wasn't likely another person that would be able to connect most of anything that Tony says, but the billionaire never failed to make everyone he talked to seem like the dumbest idiot on the planet no matter what the subject was.

"Many try and few succeed," Tony agreed. "Now, what's this about Ty calling me a jerk?"

"You aren't spending time with her, Tony, she feels neglected and hurt. She was in the foster system for crying out loud, she probably already felt that she wasn't good enough when her biological parents left her. You not calling her is probably bringing that feeling back again."

"Nonsense," Tony replied quickly. "If she needs to call me then she can call me."

"That's not the point," Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Tony, you're the one not making an effort to keep in contact with her. She likely feels that it won't matter whether or not she talks to you unless it is you who instigates the call. It's not a matter of whether she can do it; it's a matter of whether you will do it."

"I'm busy making a suit for her-"

"But she doesn't know that," Clint interrupted with frustration. Was this really that hard of a concept for him to grasp?

There was silence on the other line for a good minute or so before Tony replied.

"You're right," he admitted. "I know I haven't been in contact but this suit and… other things take my time away. I'm spending so much of the day with what I'm making for Tyler that I don't think of actually calling her." He sighed. "Listen, I'm going to let you go. Don't tell Tyler about the suit, I want it to be a surprise."

Clint nodded. "I won't. Call her tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah. Take care of her, alright? Don't teach her how to kill someone just yet; I'm still having drawbacks when I think of her going for someone's throat with a knife."

Clint let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. "No promises."

"Ha. Ha. Now shut up and get some sleep."

With that, the call ended. Tony never got to talk to Tyler after that.

Clint wasn't exactly sure what happened, but the next day Fury told him that Tony had done something really stupid. He had voiced a threat to a terrorist onscreen the previous day and didn't forget to mention his home address. Apparently the terrorist responded with blowing up his flat and Tony was presumed to be dead. If that was what Tony meant by "other things" then Clint felt like he wanted to shoot Tony's charred up corpse if it was ever found. He doubted, however, that the billionaire was truly dead. He had to be alive.

Clint had several chances to tell Tyler the news throughout the day, but he just couldn't. He didn't let anyone else say it either. He saw her talking and laughing at the table and found it a lot less hard not to let the information burst out of his mouth. Tyler would be fine in blissful ignorance for the time being.

Clint blinked as he came back to the present and looked away from the teen in front of him. He was stupid for keeping something like that from Tyler, but he kept hoping that Tony would reveal himself and everything would go back to normal. Two weeks later and still no arrogant, egotistical, admittedly loveable billionaire.

"Tyler," he began quietly, but stopped. Tyler had turned her back toward him due to his trance and proceeded to ignore him. He sighed. What could he really tell her?

Hey, sorry for not saying anything, especially since you just found out you've been lied to your whole life, but I have some bad news. Your father was exploded in his own home by some terrorist guy named The Mandarin and there is no trace of him or the body. It's been two weeks since the attack on his home so now he is presumed to be dead. Sorry kiddo, but the reason Fury told you about your ability was because Tony won't ever be able to.

That would go over real smooth. Instead of burying himself into such a deep hole, Clint leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He hoped that by the time they were both awake he would have figured out something to say. And he also hoped that Tyler wouldn't try to murder him after she heard what he had to tell her…

The wind blew through Loki's slick, black hair as he stood on top of one of the taller skyscrapers jutting out above the city. From his perch he could easily see the newly rebuilt Stark Tower and a rueful smile crept on his lips. The irony of it all.

He lost so much time and resources just to bring down the city, but now there he was in the center of it. It provided refuge for him, though if he were seen by any of those petty Avengers he would surely be taken prisoner. Or maybe shot on sight. He couldn't wait for the day that he could bring the Midguardians' structures down to dust around his feet. His plan, however, would not work unless he could find someone in the ranks to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. from the inside out.

He raised his lips and growled at how weak the Midguardians were. He could so easily break their bones with just his fist that it wasn't really a wonder that none he came across could handle his spell. It had to work, though. That was the one thing in his plan that was missing.

In the distance a low hum alerted him to the oncoming of one of those large flying planes, as the Midguardians called them. He looked to the sky and watched as it slowly became larger and larger; it looked as though it was coming straight at him.

He stiffened instinctively. Could they have found him? No, that was impossible; his magic rendered him completely undetectable to the Avengers as long as he didn't go too overboard with his power. He forced himself to relax and scolded himself for being so paranoid. Nothing had happened yet, and it would remain that way.

Loki's brow furrowed as the plane neared and he realized it wasn't the normal aircraft that often flew overhead. This one was a lot smaller and black as opposed to the usual large, white planes. Maybe he had had reason to worry. This was not a plane, but a jet. A jet that looked exactly like the one he had been taken prisoner in by four of the Avengers during the first part of his plan.

He scowled at the memory and was about ready to vanish into his warehouse, but something caught his attention. The jet was going too fast for it to be heading for him, so there was no danger in him staying on the roof, but that wasn't why he stopped.

He felt something he had never felt before, yet it somehow seemed familiar. It was a sort of presence that just… captured him. He had the sudden urge to see just who was on the jet, but he knew it was moving too fast for him to teleport onto it.

He settled instead for a quick tracing spell on the object as it flew by. He had no time to cast the spell on the actual person he sensed, but he doubted that whoever it was wouldn't wander too far from their "escape vehicle." Some Midguardian sayings made no sense, but that one certainly had good use.

Loki watched the jet until it disappeared from his view. He had no idea why he acted on such an impulse, but for some reason he didn't feel like he'd made the wrong choice. He was biding his time, anyway, until he found a suitable host for his spell. Why not follow the jet? It wouldn't get him any farther away from his goal.

The only problem was that he didn't have his own jet. He would have to commandeer one if he wanted to find what was tugging at his senses. He had the feeling that he needed to see who was on the jet, which was preposterous. The only thing he "needed" was to reclaim the Tessaract and begin his reign on the Midguardians.

He sighed at his own contradictory thoughts and returned to his warehouse to get ready. Whoever he had sensed on the jet had the potential to do something that could ruin his plans. He couldn't have that, now, could he?

And we're finally starting to get to the main chunk of the story! ...Sort of. Lol, well, hope you enjoyed because this is going to be the last post for a while. :( I am leaving in two days (during which I have a lot of stuffs to do) to go on a week-long trip where there will be no internet service so I won't be able to post. However, there is electricity so I will write A LOT so that I can post a few chapters as soon as I come back. :) Ta-ta for now, and please review! :D

-KC