Chapter 12: The Horned Viper

"The sun is almost below the horizon."

"Your point?"

"You said we'd be there by-"

"No, I said we might be there by night fall. At the slowest it is a three day journey."

Tyler sighed and glared at Clint. "Giving people false hope is cruel, you know."

"It wasn't false hope," Clint protested as he looked over his shoulder at the teenager. "It was entirely possible if we'd have simply walked faster."

"So it's your fault? Mister, 'Don't hurt yourself; if you're tired then we can rest.'"

Clint rolled his eyes. "You were practically falling over as you walked."

"Details."

The two looked at each other and slowly a grin spread on Clint's face. It wasn't all that long ago that Tony had provided the exact same phrase and he couldn't help but notice how like Tony Tyler actually was. It was a wonder they hadn't beheaded each other. Or, more likely, it was a wonder Tyler hadn't beheaded Clint. She fancied that the only reason she kept him alive was because he knew where he was going, but his light attitude and tendency to crack jokes might have helped. Tyler's emotions were still running high, however, no matter what Clint said. Due to the endless hours she had to think, her feelings about past pains and angers were in turmoil. Clint had told her to sort out what she felt about her father, but when she tried she only became more confused about the things that had happened. She had no idea what to do, what to feel, what she should be thinking. Not anymore. She hid it, however, or else Clint would force her to stop and pour out all of her troubles… Which in all honesty didn't seem much of a bad idea. Perhaps then she could make sense of at least something.

"I don't think we're going to make it there tonight," Clint pulled her from her thoughts. "We should stop and…" He looked around him, only to see miles of dirt and cacti stretching out about them. There was a wall of sand in front of them, but it was unlikely that it hid anything behind it. "Well, we should just stop."

He walked over to the shelter that the large dune provided and sat down, conveniently next to a cactus. Tyler welcomed the precious liquid he held out to her as she took a seat next to him. They shared another long silence, Clint daring Tyler to speak and Tyler daring Clint to make her. Eventually Tyler sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and avoided eye contact with Clint by drawing in the sand with her finger. Clint stared at her, hoping that she would look at him. When she refused, Clint leaned forward into her line of vision. She just gazed straight past him. With a heavy sigh, Clint sat back.

"Fine," he mumbled. Normally a small smile might have tugged at Tyler's lips due to Clint's childishness, but this time it didn't. At some point during their walk she realized she needed to tell him what was going on, but she couldn't find the words. There were so many ways she could start the dreaded conversation… in the end she could only decide on one.

"Elizabeth," she finally said quietly. Clint looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, completely oblivious as to what Tyler was trying to say.

"My name was Elizabeth Tyler before Stark adopted me," she explained. She almost wanted to stop there, but knew it wouldn't help in the slightest to leave the conversation off at that. "Tony used to joke that I was like Elizabeth Swan, from Pirates of the Caribbean. When you heard Jarvis call me Miss Swan, that was the nickname Tony had come up with for me…" Tyler let out a weak laugh. "You're probably wondering what the significance of that is, but I've been wanting to explain for a while. That first night when you called me by the nickname…" she paused, not sure whether she was ready to admit what had happened.

"You're not still mad at that, are you?" Clint asked with worry. He wasn't proud of the way he had treated Tyler, but she was a stranger and he was mad at Tony for not telling him about her. He put that anger on Tyler instead of her father. Tyler shook her head, despite his worry.

"It's not that," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "The man who gave me my name, he was what had angered me, not you. Even when Tony calls me Miss Swan I'm reminded of when my biological father-" Tyler closed her eyes to hold back tears. She had left this subject untouched for years, and its wrath was tearing up at her in consequence. Neither Pepper nor Jackie, nor even Tony knew about it. Clint seemed to sense her distress because he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Tyler, if you don't want to-"

Tyler immediately shook her head. "Clint, I have to tell somebody." She looked up at him with sad, brown eyes. "That man, my biological father, he wasn't meant to be a dad. He got too deep into debt and only made it worse by drinking away his problems. When they didn't go away, however, he…" Tyler took a deep breath. "He took it out on me."

Clint stared at her. When she said "took it out on her" did she mean yelling at her, or locking her away in a cellar? …Hitting her? Bedding her? That phrase left too many questions in Clint's head. None of which he liked, the last of which scared him to death. To have her innocence taken in such a way…

Tyler knew what he was thinking. "When you called me by that name I thought of that man, and the pain he caused me almost every night after he returned from the bar. He hurt me, Clint, but I was not taken advantage of in the way you're thinking." She choked back a sob and looked away at Clint's breath of relief.

"I had no idea," he began, but was again cut off with a shake of Tyler's head.

"No one does. I'd like to keep it that way," she said, her voice now cold and guarded.

She looked at him and Clint had no other option than to agree with a nod, even if it would probably be better for her to tell someone else that might be better at comforting her. He failed to see, however, what that had to do with her anger at Tony. He realized she wasn't finished when she searched the sky for words to come to her.

"I was abandoned once," she said. "That man had once been my father that I looked up to, but when my mother died so did he. Tony became the father figure in my life only a year after being in the foster system. Now it seems like he's going to end up like my first dad… gone. Not physically, but mentally. He never seems to take an interest in me any more."

"That's not true," Clint said, but remembered that he had tried to say exactly the same thing on the jet earlier. He expected her to lash out at him with anger like the first time, but instead she gave him a cheerless smile.

"I wish it weren't," she whispered. It was then that Clint realized just how heart broken Tyler was. She had feelings bottled up inside of her from when she was a mere child and she couldn't handle any of it because she had no one to talk to… until now. Clint scooted closer to her and suddenly pulled her into his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head. He doubted, since it was in her nature to stubbornly rely on herself, that she ever let any of her painful feelings show aside from the time at the HQ when she got mad at him. Tyler stiffened in his embrace, and only proved his point. He didn't move, however, and eventually she relaxed against him and buried her head into his chest. She didn't cry like he expected her to, but she stayed there, seeming so small.

He didn't know how long they sat there, but at some point she had fallen asleep. Clint couldn't help but smile. Of course she fell asleep, she was not only physically exhausted, but after what she had told him she was probably emotionally drained as well. With a light chuckle he slowly leaned backwards until both he and Tyler were lying down. From there he stared up at the sky and the billions of twinkling lights that lit up the night. His eyes searched for any constellations that he could name while his ears were pricked for any sounds that could have come from the men hunting them. He was actually surprised that they hadn't found them yet, considering they probably had vehicles rather than having to travel on foot. His surprise didn't last too long, however.

When the moon was just leaving its peak in the sky, and Clint's eyes were half closed from drowsiness, a sound came to him in the darkness. It was an unwelcome sound, and it put him on the highest alert. Immediately he sat up, one arm still holding Tyler and the other resting at his side for easy access to his gun. Tyler shifted from the sudden movement and her eyes fluttered open with concern.

"Clint," she whispered, and the agent answered with a quick hush. Tyler furrowed her brow and tried to blink the sleep away from her eyes when she heard it, what had gotten Clint worked up. It was far away, but rapidly coming closer. It was the loud roaring of an engine, possibly several. About a mile or two away, lights came into view. Clint counted them and decided that there were three cars, and they weren't likely to be from the HQ close by. Swiftly he got to his feet and pulled Tyler along with him. They sprinted up the dune and slid down the sand to the other side where Clint pushed himself against the ground, inevitably dragging Tyler in his wake. He waited a moment before he removed his gun from its holster and looked ahead. He could just make out some dark shapes not too far away that might provide some cover.

"Do you think you can run?" Clint asked. Tyler followed his line of vision and nodded, however feared that she might fall behind. After all, she really hadn't been training for too long a time. Clint didn't let her hesitate, though, and pulled her to her feet. They ran, at first together, but Clint was soon ahead of her. He remained only a few feet in front, and Tyler got the feeling he was trying to pace her. Or at least encourage her to run a little faster. She looked over her shoulder quickly, and was glad to find that the cars weren't coming up over the dune just yet. She couldn't hear their engines either, but that could be the effect of her heart pounding in her ears like a drum. She focused forward again to their target, which was a mere one-hundred meters in front of them now. She sped up a little, just for sound of mind, and when they reached the hulking figures they discovered them to be rocks jutting out of the desert floor. They dove behind them, just in time to avoid being spotted.

The cars came up over the sand dune they had been hiding behind, and then stopped. Clint watched closely with narrowed eyes while Tyler sat and tried to get a handle on her breathing. One of the car doors opened and a man stepped out. He walked to the side and kneeled down, no doubt inspecting the tracks Clint and Tyler had left behind from sliding down the dune. The man looked up, and his gaze went straight to the rocks. Clint cursed and sat down with his back against the rock he and Tyler were hiding behind. The cars started moving moments later, and he knew that he had to think fast. He sprung to his feet and searched every rock in the clump. Tyler stood and followed behind him a few feet away in confusion. She glanced over her shoulder every few moments and remembered how fast they had run to the rocks. Surely with vehicles it would go even faster.

"Clint," she began nervously, but was suddenly silenced when Clint grabbed her shoulders and forced her under one of the rocks that hung over a bit. There were scraggly bushes in front of it that provided a little cover.

"Stay here, no matter what happens," Clint said. "There isn't enough time to run, so I'm going to draw them away. Don't leave until I return, got it?"

Tyler didn't have time to protest. Clint disappeared from her line of vision when he returned to the position they had first been in. They both waited in silence, and Tyler couldn't help but shift nervously. She knew she didn't have much training and she might not be able to help much, but she could at least do something right? She hated hiding away while Clint was in the open, just waiting to be set upon by three cars worth of murderous Algerians.

As if on cue, a shot exploded and tore away the usual silence of the desert. Tires skidded, shouts echoed, and after that all Tyler knew was that if Clint was alive, he could not possibly be human. There was machine gun fire and she could feel the floor below her shake as the men ran past, apparently searching for Clint who hid himself further. Tyler closed her eyes and retreated as far against the rock as she could, hoping that everything was alright. In front of her a thump sounded, and she could only guess that Clint had killed a man close to her hiding spot. She didn't open her eyes to look. She tried her best not to breathe heavily and give herself away, but she doubted it really mattered. Even though most of the gun fire stopped, her ears picked up shouts, grunts, thumping, and painful sounding cracks. She really hoped it was Clint breaking other people's arms, and not the other way around. A few moments later, there was a sudden silence, save for the heavy breathing of the men. Tyler slowly opened her eyes, but could only see the body of the dead man in front of her. She waited, her breath hardly able to leave her throat, and she listened. Her ears strained to hear anything in the silence, but all she could make out was another painful sounding thump.

"Give up, SHIELD scum," a heavily accented voice reached Tyler's ears. She could only barely perceive the sound; the men must have been far away. She was able to hear Clint spit on the ground, however, and then another thud and a following grunt. Tyler gritted her teeth and debated whether she should come out and shoot one of the men, to catch them off guard. The words that followed, however, kept her from moving.

"There was another with you," a different voice said. Tyler was surprised to find that there was no accent tainting it, or at least not one that was of Algeria. "Where are they hiding?"

Clint said nothing. Again, someone punched him and it sounded as though he fell to the ground, then was picked up again. There was another punch; Tyler flinched with every blow. Why didn't Clint fight back? From the hours of training she spent with him she knew his skill level and wouldn't have been surprised if he took out a hundred men on his own with nothing but a butter knife.

"I'll ask you again," the interrogating voice said, "Where is the other agent?"

The only answer was the silence in the dead of the night. It lasted for a long while and Tyler guessed that Clint and the interrogator were staring each other down.

"He's not going to tell you anything," the thickly accented voice spoke again. "We might as well finish him off now."

Tyler's heart rate spiked at this comment. She was just about ready to get to her feet when she remembered that Clint had told her to stay put no matter what happened. If she revealed herself would they kill him anyway?

"No," the interrogating voice replied sternly. "The other will not come if he's dead; we need to keep him alive, at least for now. You will have your kill when they come to save him."

Tyler was able to breathe again, but only just. Clint had a chance. If she could make it to the HQ then perhaps she could get some of the agents to help her find him and save him.

"And what if the whole of the organization is set upon us?" the Algerian asked.

"You have no worry for that. I will take care of it."

There was a long gap of silence that elevated the sound of Tyler's beating heart. If the Algerian refused, Clint's life would be ended. She closed her eyes and silently prayed for both her and Clint's safety. When she opened her eyes again she moved to leave the shelter that the rock provided. In her hand she grabbed the gun Clint earlier supplied and took a deep breath to steady herself. If Clint was going to die on her account, then at the least she wanted to do everything in her power to prevent it.

"Alright, have it your way," the Algerian said suddenly, stopping Tyler in her tracks. Did she hear that correctly? Some orders were barked out that she could not understand, and there was a great shuffling and some more muffled grunts as Clint was undoubtedly hit into submission. Then the engines of the cars were started. Tentatively, Tyler poked her head out and watched as the headlights of the cars once again disappeared over the sand dune they had come from. She waited a few more minutes before crawling out of the space and jumping to her feet. She did her best to avoid the body in front of her, but still she wanted to gag on the scent of his blood. This was the closest she had ever been to death. With a deep breath, Tyler walked away from the body and glanced around, trying to gain her bearings. The sand dune was to her left, which meant that the headquarters was to her right. Hopefully Clint was correct in that their journey would have been through if they had walked a little faster, because Tyler felt that there was only one thing to do. She ran.

She knew that the general direction she was running was correct, but still she wondered if she would be able to find the HQ at all. And if she did, would the agents there even listen to her? She had no form of identification and she doubted anyone would believe her if she told them that she was Tony Stark's daughter, and even if they did they weren't likely to help. It was possible that Fury had contacted them to alert them of her and Clint's presence, but that strangely didn't comfort her. She found herself madly wishing to be back in New York, training with Natasha, Steve, and Clint. Jackie would be there with lunch, and occasionally Tyler would speak to Banner. He had a strange way of relaxing her tense nerves after a hard day of training and another disappointment in Tony. Then there was Maria, whom she loved to give a hard time. There was no doubt that the agent wanted her to give up her idea of becoming an agent so that she didn't have to deal with her attitude any longer.

Tyler's breaths were coming out short and strained now. Though the night was cold, sweat beaded on her brow as though she were exercising in the summer heat. Even with all of the training she had been undergoing, her muscles were already beginning to complain. The adrenaline from the danger was now fully gone and her weariness set in. She had only spent two days in the desert, but it felt like years. Her vision blurred occasionally, and it was because of that she didn't see the rock.

It was small, but stuck hard in the ground and perfectly blended with the sand. Her toe caught on the rock, and because of the suddenness of it she tripped and fell hard to the ground. She put her arms in front of her to break her fall and they were cut up from the grains of the sand, no doubt to the point that they bled. She winced, but knew that it was nothing compared to what might happen to Clint. She made to stand up, but stopped. A quiet, dangerous hiss echoed in front of her and she dared not move. She could now see two black, beady eyes staring at her from not two feet away. Above the eyes were two long horns that jutted threateningly away from the scales of the snake. Though she could not see its color, it was because of these two horns that she knew what was facing her. The Horned Viper.

Its tongue flicked menacingly out of its mouth every few seconds, but otherwise remained completely still. Tyler tried not to move suddenly or make a sound, but her breaths were excruciatingly loud in the quiet of the night, and they rocked her body to its core. She wasn't sure what she should do, but she was certain that the snake wouldn't slither away of its own accord. She knew that any quick, unexpected movements would cause it to strike, so she couldn't reach for her gun and shoot it before it sunk its fangs into her. The only thing she could think of was to back very slowly away from it.

In a flash, the snake lurched forward and clamped down on her left arm. She cried out and quickly grabbed the gun Clint had given her. She was aware of how dangerous her next move was, but she did it anyway. She aimed the gun just below the snake's head and pulled the trigger. She wasn't sure if the bullet grazed her arm, but the snake's hissing ceased and its hold loosened, and that was all that mattered. Tyler dropped the gun and, with a quick intake of breath, pulled the viper's fangs from her flesh. Even as her blood seeped out through the two puncture wounds, she could feel its venom making its way through her blood stream. She wouldn't let it stop her, though. She picked up the gun and placed it back in its holster, then pushed herself to her feet.

She didn't give herself the luxury of holding onto her arm; it would only slow her down and Clint didn't have time for her to show any weakness. Determination coursed through her stronger than the panic of the fact that she was just bitten by a venomous snake. With a deep breath, she began to walk forward, slowly at first. When she was sure that she wouldn't fall again, she began to pick up speed. She walked faster, then made it to a slow jog, and finally she was pumping her arms and legs as fast as she possibly could. She wasn't sure how long she ran, or if she was even aware of her surroundings, but none of it mattered. She ran even past the point in which she would have given up on any other day. It paid off. Soon a large sand dune loomed in front of her, and above it a white light was shining. It wasn't from the moon or stars, it was from what must have been a building. With a spark of hope she sped up and climbed the hill of sand without pause. When she reached the top, relief flooded through her. Ahead there was a gate blocking the way that looked impenetrable; it had to be the barrier to protect the headquarters. As she slid down the dune, a man dressed in the usual SHIELD uniform stepped forward out of the gate's shadow. She slowed to a stop in front of him and bent over her knees to catch her breath. The agent spoke to her, in what was probably Arabic, and she held a finger up to stop him. When her breath was somewhat under control, she straightened.

"I am an agent of SHIELD," she said breathlessly, "and I need help."

The agent paused and looked her up and down. "Your name?"

"Tyler Stark."

Realization spread across the agent's face and he nodded. "A group of your agents came here looking for you, they're inside. But, they tell me you have someone else with you."

Tyler nodded. "Clint Barton, or, Hawkeye. That's actually what I need help with."

The agent hesitated, obviously having suspicions. There were often times people tried to get into the HQ with a disguise, but they generally did not speak English. If she had wanted to get into a headquarters it would have been more likely for her to do it in her own country, as she was so obviously not from Algeria with her light skin tone. Finally, he decided that one young girl wouldn't be able to do harm even if she was an imposter, so he turned to open the gate.

Tyler took a step forward to follow him and suddenly became very dizzy. She was aware that blood was trickling down her arm and wondered if it was from blood loss, or maybe shock, that her brain protested her moving. She shook her head and tried to continue forward, but another wave of dizziness took her. The last thing she remembered was the agent turning around and saying something, but she couldn't hear him. Then, nothing but black.

(A/N): I hope y'all are angry at me for leaving it off in a cliffhanger. :3 Haha, I'm evil, I admit it. And don't worry, it only gets worse in the next few chapters. Well, hope you liked it 'cause that would make me extremely happy. Speaking of happiness... HAPPY NEW YEAR!

-KC