Hey all! A few PSAs before we begin:
1. If you are 17 or older and you have not yet seen Deadpool, I highly recommend it. The movie certainly earns its R rating, but I have not yet come across a single person who saw it and didn't like it - myself included. DEADPOOL IS FREAKING AWESOME.
2. New Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. promo! That means it can't be long now... As much as I love Carter, Jarvis, Sousa, & Co., I need Bobbi, Hunter, Daisy, May, and all the others back in my life. Like, soon.
Special thanks to a tequila sunrise, Tamara, Gummybear1178, independentalto, LilacLilyFlower, Fizzywatermelon96, Holly, Hunter, Shawn, beverlie4055, VanillaAshes, and KC1991 for your reviews on the last couple chapters. It used to be that I believed in replying to every single one as a thank you for making me so happy and taking the time to do that, but my life has been so busy lately that it's just not been feasible. Don't think that means I don't appreciate every single one so, so much :)
Now, onwards!
San Juan
"Aunt Bobbi!" Lila exclaimed, jumping off the front porch and hurtling towards her at breakneck speed.
"Really?" Cooper called after her, poking his head out the front door just as Lila's arms circled around Bobbi's waist and the girl nearly bowled her over. He came dashing out as well on sight as Bobbi hugging Lila, then waited patiently for his sister to be released before giving her a huge hug to match.
"Hey, you two," Bobbi laughed, smiling from ear to ear. She tickled Lila's side. "Happy early birthday, Mini-Hawk."
"Thanks," Lila grinned. "But I won't be mini for long! What are you doing here? Is Dad with you? Does Mom know?"
"I'll go tell them!" Cooper said, ready to race off back towards the house.
"She knows, buddy," Clint said, coming out of the Quinjet with Natasha at his side after having powered everything down. As much as Bobbi liked to fly, she had deferred to their more intimate knowledge of the Farmhouse's location and the quickest flight paths to get there. "And Lila, don't you dare try to grow up too fast. You have to always be mini to me, okay?"
His kids jumped on him instead and then on Natasha with shouts of, "Dad! Auntie Nat!"
"'Til I'm taller than you," Lila stuck out her tongue at her dad from where she was hugging Natasha. "Then you'll be Mini-Hawk."
"We also brought someone we want you to meet," Bobbi told them once they had calmed down somewhat. "She's a bit younger than you, so you might have to roughhouse a bit less than you're used to..."
"We don't roughhouse," Cooper said, crossing his arms and trying for a stubborn expression.
"Sure you don't," Bobbi laughed, going back into the Quinjet. She made eye contact with first Hunter and then Isabelle. She took her hand gently and led her onto the ramp and out into the sunlight. Hunter followed. "Cooper, Lila, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Isabelle. And behind her is Lance Hunter, her dad. Isabelle, Cooper and Lila."
"Hi!" Lila chirped, waving enthusiastically.
"Hey," Cooper said, gazing at her with interest.
"Hi!" Isabelle waved shyly, holding onto Bobbi's hand.
"You have a daughter?" Lila asked. "How come we haven't met before?"
"Maybe her family is secret like ours," Cooper pointed out, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"But we share our secret with her, so—" his sister argued.
"Cooper, Lila," Clint said. "You're being rude. Why don't you go show Isabelle your toys? I bet she'd like that."
"Sorry, Dad," Cooper muttered, ducking his head. He held out his hand to Isabelle. "Want to come see? I have New York City set up in Legos! Well, part of it anyway." He looked up at Hunter, who was standing very—protectively—close to her. "You can come too if you want."
"Sure, I would love to," Hunter said, taking Isabelle's other hand. Cooper walked back towards the house with the two of them.
"Are you staying for my birthday?" Lila tilted her head at her. "It's in two days."
"I know when your birthday is, silly," Bobbi ruffled her hair. "But I have work, so I have to leave again. Isabelle will be here though."
"Really?" Lila's eyes lit up. "So can she visit often?"
"Plan on it," Bobbi nodded with a laugh.
The girl grinned. "Cool! We can play all sorts of games together." She leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Cooper cheats when he thinks I'm not looking 'cause he thinks since he's older than me that he's smarter, so sometimes I don't like playing with him."
"He most certainly is not," Bobbi waved her off with a laugh. "Go on, join them." Lila ran back to the front door and disappeared inside the house.
"You're not thinking of leaving before you say hi to Laura, are you?" Clint asked.
"Yes, no dropping and running," Natasha teased lightly.
She rolled her eyes at her. "I'm not, I'm not." The three of them began walking towards the house in a comfortable silence. Bobbi's eyes flicked to the old brown barn to the side of their property, then to the American flag fluttering in the slight breeze over a wheelbarrow filled with a mound of dirt and a few cases of flowers, and to the the sun dipping below the horizon to her right, painting the sky with brilliant hues of pink and orange. She stepped up on the single step before the front porch and felt it creak and give slightly beneath her combat boots.
"My next project," Clint indicated it. Natasha and Bobbi each gave him a look, altogether too familiar with his 'projects.'
"I thought the next one was reflooring the sunroom?" Bobbi asked innocently.
Clint shrugged. "I'll get to that one after."
The front door swung open before any of them could touch it to reveal Laura Barton holding it open with her elbow and drying her hands on a dishcloth. "No more projects, Clint," she told him with a slight smile. "Can't you just come and be home, instead of fixing things constantly?" The warm look she was giving her husband told Bobbi that she was only teasing.
"I could if things around here would stop breaking," Clint replied, greeting her with a kiss. He smiled. "Honey, I'm home."
"Yes, I can see that," she laughed, standing aside to let the three of them inside. After she let the door close she embraced Natasha, murmuring something quietly in her ear, and then Bobbi, albeit for a shorter duration. "And I can see you've brought a little one and...Hunter...with you," she said, eying Bobbi.
"Long story?" she said feebly.
Laura nodded. "Must be. Last time I heard that name you were complaining about him being a—" She glanced behind her towards the stairs that led to the kids' bedrooms, "—your ex-husband."
"An осел," Natasha provided helpfully.
Laura shook her head. "Oh no you don't. Russian's not even working anymore—I caught Lila saying your favorite 'дерьмо' when she stubbed her toe the other week."
"дерьмо," Natasha muttered, then caught Laura's eye. "Sorry."
"It is a long story," Bobbi told Laura. "I can tell you everything another time or Clint can relate it to you later. Thank you for agreeing to have them both here for a little while."
Laura smiled. "It's no problem at all, Bobbi. I look forward to getting to know her. And Lila will be happy to have another child here on her birthday, as normally it can only be a family affair while Clint's here. I assume you'll want to be leaving as soon as possible, so best of luck on your mission. Stay safe."
Bobbi nodded and thanked her again, then ducked up the stairs and walked down the hallway to Cooper's room, hearing laughter long before she could see its occupants. When Isabelle saw her she immediately scrambled upward and to her feet and Hunter got off the wall on which he had been leaning. Cooper and Lila fell silent, watching them. "Time to say goodbye," Bobbi told her, kneeling, as her daughter's arms wrapped around her neck.
"Do you have to go?" Isabelle sniffled in her ear.
"Yes, but I'll be back soon," Bobbi replied quietly. "And Daddy will stay here with you. But for now Phil needs my help like we talked about on the way here, okay?" She gently pulled away from Isabelle a bit so that she could look into her daughter's tear-filled blue eyes.
"And Skye and Trip and Leo and Jemma and Mack?" Isabelle asked with a waver in her voice.
"All of them," Bobbi confirmed. "But I'll be back here before you know it. I love you, Isabelle."
"I love you too, Mommy." The girl broke her hold and threw her arms around Bobbi again, and she hugged her tightly, surprised to feel more than a little anguish at this parting herself. She realized this would be the first time she would ever be farther than a short jog away from her daughter since they had been reunited at the adoption agency.
Eventually Bobbi was forced to extract herself from Isabelle to say goodbye to Hunter. It wasn't long, but this parting was a familiar paradigm for them. They kissed quickly, and he told her, "Don't die out there," with the most intense look on his face that she had ever seen him wear.
"I won't," she told him. "And next mission's yours if you want it, I promise."
His lips curved upwards minutely. "Deal."
Then she bid goodbye to Lila and Cooper—"Bye, Aunt Bobbi! Visit again soon!"—and walked back down the stairs. At the bottom, Clint was drying dishes as Laura washed them, talking in soft voices, and between the two of them they only had a few left.
"I'll walk you out," Natasha said, joining Bobbi. She gave her a small smile and nodded.
"See you soon, Clint, Laura. Thanks again for everything."
Their responses echoed off each other as she and Natasha exited the house, stepping out into the moist night air—most of the color was gone in the horizon, having faded into black. Stars glittered far above their heads, more than Bobbi usually had the privilege to witness because out on the Barton Farm light pollution was very minimal. "How does it feel to be leaving her?" Natasha asked quietly as they reached the edge of the Quinjet.
Half of Bobbi's mouth quirked upward wryly. "Not great."
The Black Widow nodded. "You're making the world a little bit safer for her. Someday, when it comes time to explain that to her, she'll understand."
"And if she doesn't?" Bobbi asked.
"Then she has Cooper and Lila to help her," Natasha replied. "Even if Laura isn't your biggest fan, I suspect those three will be inseparable by the time you get back."
Bobbi glared at her. "Laura likes me." Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Okay, we're friendly." It rose further, a smirk playing at the edges of Natasha's mouth. "Which is a recent development." She clenched her teeth together. "Well, she always liked you better than me anyway. Despite the fact that both of us tried to start a relationship with Clint before we knew she existed."
"I was a young, lost, brainwashed, ex-KGB assassin for whom Clint Barton was the only stable, good thing in her life, whereas you—"
"I pursued him overmuch until he revealed his secret," Bobbi rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I remember. It led to quite a few rocky early meetings between us."
Natasha was silent for a moment. Then: "I know you are and will continue to be a good mom, Bobbi. Just the way you look at her… No matter what anyone says of your choice to go on this mission, know that I stand behind you. Clint stands behind you. Coulson stands behind you."
She gazed at her gratefully. "You always know the right thing to say to make me feel better, Tasha." Bobbi paused. "Have I ever told you that I'm glad you're using your abilities for our side now?"
"A few times that I can recall," Natasha smiled. "Usually when I'd just taken you down on the mat."
"Touché," Bobbi replied, activating the rear hatch opening of the Quinjet. "See you in a couple days."
"If you see them, kick some HYDRA ass for me," Natasha told her.
"Will do," Bobbi promised in return. "But I hope not." She stepped aboard the ramp and kept walking up until her hand was on the back of the pilot's seat. She hit the button on the controls to close it, then sat down and strapped herself in, flipping the switches necessary to initialize the engines as she did so. The comm set fit snugly over her ears.
She dialed Coulson's number, setting the phone down on her lap. It went immediately to voicemail. "You have reached the phone of Phillip Coleman. I'm a little busy right now, but please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you." Bobbi let out a little snort at the 'Phillip Coleman' part—sometimes she forgot that Phil Coulson and the rest of the original team technically didn't exist anymore thanks to Skye's scrubbing of the internet—before calling his second-in-command instead, wanting to know how the extraction of Raina was going.
"May," the woman answered.
"It's Bobbi, just checking in. I'm headed out to Puerto Rico now."
"Copy that," May answered.
Bobbi took the controls in both hands to bank to the right before leveling out, still rising into the air. "I tried calling Coulson but his phone was off. I assume he's still on the plane?"
"His flight lands at five thirty a.m. local time at SJU with a layover in Atlanta," she informed her. "It was the earliest I could make it last minute."
"All right," Bobbi said. "Are you still en route to Vancouver to extract Raina?" She had almost forgotten that the first part of her flight was much shorter than either of theirs.
"Yes."
"But nothing new from Koenig?"
"No."
"Anything else I should know about?" Bobbi asked, well-versed in May's tight-lipped stoicism.
"Agent 33 still has my face. And Senator Christian Ward and his parents are dead," she replied evenly.
"That's unfortunate on both counts," Bobbi answered. "But at least it means Ward's moved on somewhat from us."
"Moved on to what is my concern," May growled. "Good luck, Agent Morse."
"You too, May," Bobbi told her, ending the call.
Around three o'clock in the morning Bobbi spotted the lights of San Juan ahead of her instead of just the vast blackness of the Gulf of Mexico and she began her descent, flying low enough to sweep the area for an open and unpopulated place to land. Circling a few times, she found a suitable field and touched down gently, only pulling the uncomfortable headset off once she was safely on the ground and flipping the necessary switches to power the engines down. She took one look at the battery gauge and did the mental calculations in her head. Unfortunately, the power levels were low enough that she didn't want to risk leaving the cloaking panels on lest they not last through the daytime flight home, when they would really need them. Bobbi shut everything down with a yawn, then used her phone as a flashlight to find an emergency blanket among the crates of supplies Fitz and Simmons had loaded up and strapped in as well as the various weapons—stuff they didn't want to have to explain to TSA.
Heading back up to the pilot's seat and sitting down, she draped it over herself before sending her coordinates to Coulson. Bobbi set herself an alarm for six, knowing she should get a few hours of shut-eye before Coulson and the others arrived and she had to meet Diego.
God, Diego. It was probably a good thing Hunter wasn't with them, or she'd never hear the end of it.
With that, she let the hand holding her phone fall gently into her lap and curled up her legs on the seat, letting her eyes fall closed.
A tiny snippet of "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay woke her three hours later and she blinked away the residual tiredness before folding the blanket up, stretching, and stowing it away. She looked outside to see the sky turning a murky gray instead of the jet black it had been before. Flipping a few switches, she activated the cloak and began to get dressed for the day. Despite it being winter, it was supposed to be almost eighty degrees in San Juan—and she needed to be dressed like a local to meet Diego. By the time she was finished there was still nothing to do but wait for Coulson to show up, so she paced the back of the Quinjet twirling her staves and trying not to hit the loads of equipment stashed there.
She sent off a quick text to Hunter letting him know that so far everything was going smoothly—though nothing had really started happening yet—and almost asked for a picture of Isabelle but refrained. Nothing to distract her for this mission. He didn't reply right away, not that she expected him to seeing as it was very early, even for life on a farm.
The sound of a car pulling up outside caught her attention and she distantly—through the walls of the Quinjet—heard the sound of three car doors closing followed by a fourth some seconds later. There was a polite knock on the metal hull of the aircraft. "It's us!" Simmons called.
"Stand back!" Bobbi replied, hitting the button to lower the ramp and revealing Coulson, Fitz, Simmons, and Mack waiting for her along with an old, dirty Jalopy. "Nice ride," she smirked at Mack as the two scientists slipped past her to begin futzing with their equipment.
"Bobbi, you're with me," Coulson reminded her, beckoning her out of the Quinjet. "And you'll have to leave those here."
She looked down to see the staves still in her hands. "Right, coming." She zipped them back up with her Mockingbird tac suit. "See you soon," she told Mack as she exited.
Coulson got into the driver's seat and she the passenger's, and they had just enough time to see the Quinjet ramp closing up again before he pulled away and started back the way he'd come.
"Any new developments?" he asked her.
"Meeting's still on," Bobbi informed him. "I've got a time and a location, which is about all I can expect from him." She glanced down at the ripped seat cushions. "Where exactly did you find this heap of junk?"
Coulson smiled, pointing underneath the steering column where two little copper wires stuck out. "Mack is as adept at hot-wiring cars as he is at fixing them."
"That's what we get for not having a base on this island," Bobbi sighed. "Didn't we used to, before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell?"
"Yep," Coulson turned off the grass onto the main road. "It was small, so Hand closed it down before Hydra could get their hands on it."
"Anything odd on the way in?" Bobbi asked, watching the speedometer rise above sixty.
"No tails that I could spot, if that's what you're asking," the director replied. "But, you know airports."
"Yes, sir."
"I think we're good." Coulson glanced sideways at her. "As long as the owner of this car isn't an early bird."
"You're going to return it?" she asked.
He gave her a small smile. "Of course. We're only borrowing it." They'd reached the outskirts of San Juan and he turned down a side alley, continuing on until they came to a more residential section. "Call us a cab, would you?" he requested. "For 601 Calle Las Palmas." She did so, finishing the call just as he pulled into an unknown driveway. She got out hurriedly, waiting on the sidewalk as he pulled out his wallet and left about fifty dollars in cash tucked into the sun visor above the steering wheel. "For the damages and the gas."
She nodded, surprised but not really surprised at the same time. Bobbi hadn't spent a lot of time with Director Coulson one-on-one—not for years, anyway, which at S.H.I.E.L.D. was more like a lifetime—and she couldn't help comparing him to Fury in her head as Mack and the others were inclined to. Would Nick Fury have done that? Was Coulson really different from him after all? As much as she had liked and respected the one-eyed man for his wisdom and leadership, she did believe S.H.I.E.L.D. would not survive another director like him. The era of S.H.I.E.L.D. that flourished under Nick Fury was over—the one where they could bend the rules and force other countries to listen to them instead of the other way around. Now it was about secrecy and playing by the rules and absolute diplomacy, or they would not survive.
Bobbi wanted S.H.I.E.L.D. to survive for a long time yet.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Coulson asked as they began walking.
"Just that you're...very relaxed," Bobbi lied. "For a mission of this importance. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"You know as much as I do, Agent Morse," he answered. "You expect me to act like a specialist. I'm not one. Just a field agent who learned from the best."
She dipped her head. "Fair enough, sir." They arrived at 601, which was only a few houses down from the house from which Coulson had stolen the car. A few minutes later, a cab pulled up, unmarked and except for the company logo on the side, Bobbi never would have guessed that it was a taxi cab. "Calle Norzagaray," she requested after they both had sat down. The cabbie started the meter and pulled away from the curb, Bobbi and Coulson lapsing into a comfortable silence.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, finding a text from Hunter. Don't die out there. She smiled. No matter how many times he said it, she'd never get tired of hearing it.
"Anything I need to know about?" Coulson asked.
"No," Bobbi said, tilting the phone toward him in clear permission to read it. Though Hunter might not have had that in mind that way, she was sure the message extended to Coulson in spirit. The director raised an eyebrow. "We tend to remind each other not to die," Bobbi informed him.
"I thought that was implicit," Coulson said.
She shrugged. "He likes to hear it. And honestly, I don't mind it either." From the amused look Coulson was giving her, he picked up on the understatement in her words.
When they arrived on the street, Coulson paid for the taxi and they both got out. "You ever had the fried plantains here?" he asked as they began heading for their actual destination, Fort San Cristóbal.
"Tostones? Yeah. Why?"
"I read about this place down the street where they put crab in them. I wouldn't mind trying that. You know, after we save the world." She cracked a smile at that. "Thank you for coming, Agent Morse," he continued. "I hope it wasn't too hard to leave Isabelle with Hunter, Barton, and Romanoff."
"I'd prefer not to talk about my daughter in public while we're on a mission, sir," Bobbi told him, keeping her tone carefully modulated and professional.
Coulson glanced at her, seeming to read the blank mask she had on instead of a facial expression, and nodded. "I understand." She felt her phone vibrate yet again in her pocket. She looked down at it. Not Hunter this time, which made sense as she hadn't replied to him yet. Diego. Voy a llegar tarde. Encuéntrame en el puente de la fortaleza - tú sabes cuál.
"Diego texted me," Bobbi informed Coulson, fingers simultaneously reaching out to tap a reply. "He's gonna be late. He's always late." She gestured up ahead. "Said he'd meet us on the other side of the plaza."
"This contact of yours, can we trust him?"
"He's a politician, so, no, but he likes me." Another understatement, but she didn't think Coulson noticed this one. They mounted the steps of the plaza she had referred to, finding themselves surrounded by small fruit stands and what looked to be earthenware jars.
"And he can get us those architectural plans?" Coulson checked.
"Yes, and he'll keep the local cops off of us. Things could get sticky, depending on where we're digging." She glanced next to her to see Coulson had stopped at one of the stands.
"Ooh, hats," the director commented. He picked up a while one with a short brim, turning it over in his hands. She watched him with something akin to astonishment. He has asked her to leave Isabelle to do this mission because of its importance, and yet here he was...playing dress-up. "Wish I was a hat guy." He placed it on his head. "Some guys can really pull that look off, you know?" He noticed the expression she was giving him. "What? Too small?"
"You know, for a guy who's about to blow up a chunk of an underground city, you don't seem fazed," she said, choosing her words carefully as they moved away from the hat stall.
"You have concerns?" he asked.
"Just want to make sure that we're here to destroy that weapon, not recover it."
"Why would we do that?"
"That's what Fury would do," Bobbi told him. "I'm not Fury," he replied simply.
"No. But he did hand you the keys to the kingdom for a reason," she pointed out.
Coulson sighed, stopping at the edge of the plaza. "Look around you." A little confused, she did. Sweeping the area for threats or tails before he said, "Vendors selling their wares, bringing home a modest income." She noticed them. "Locals buying fresh vegetables for dinner tonight. Tourists on their one vacation a year."
"Point?" Bobbi asked a bit more brusquely than she meant to.
"They are the point. They're the reason I'm here, the reason there's a S.H.I.E.L.D. There are three million people on this island, and I won't let HYDRA turn them into collateral damage."
"With all due respect, sir, this kind of op, Fury would have a number." And with all due respect, she would have a number too. As much as she hated it.
"A number?"
"Of acceptable losses," she elaborated as they passed under the archway into Fort San Cristóbal.
He looked at her as they stopped on the walkway just beyond it that ran parallel to the water. "Zero."
For a moment she was torn between being relieved and informing him that having a number was a matter of being realistic about the mission they were about to undertake. Luckily she was saved by the bell in the form of a figure in a bright orange shirt and dark jeans standing alone about an eighth of a mile away on the same rampart as they were. "There's Diego. I'll be right back."
Diego smiled at her approach, leaning forward to kiss her on both cheeks, first the right and then the left. "Long time, no see," he teased. "I thought I told you to wear that little black number from...where was it...our trip to Santa Isabel?"
"You know as well as I do those days are long gone," Bobbi replied indulgently. "Do you have what I need?"
He pretended to pout. "All work and no play, florecita."
"Careful, or you'll be seen by some of your constituents," she told him lightly. "Election year's coming up."
"Election year is always coming up," he replied. "Democracy for you. But it can't hurt my polling numbers to have a beautiful thing like you on my arm. Imagine the publicity shots."
"Back to work, Diego," she rolled her eyes. "Do you have them, or not?"
He opened the bag slung over his shoulder to reveal a sheaf of rolled up, yellowed papers. "Have I ever let you down, Barbara?"
"Maybe when you realized who I was and sicced the Santa Isabel policía on me right in the middle of our date," Bobbi reminded him, holding out her hands for the blueprints.
"Bygones," Diego laughed. "Besides, it wasn't really a date if I was your mark, now was it? And can you deny I've been more helpful to you this way, as equals?" He slipped the backpack down so that its strap rested in the crook of his elbow, reaching inside for the delicate papers.
She humored him. "You've been a great ally to S.H.I.E.L.D., Diego. And we appreciate it."
He grinned, slipping them out and handing them to her. "That's all I ask. And...la próxima vez, recuerde realmente no hay nada como un pequeño vestido negro."
She rolled her eyes—him and that little black dress again—and took the papers gently. "Hasta luego, Diego. I'll text you if we need anything else." Bobbi turned away, walking back towards Coulson.
"Success?" he asked as she approached.
Bobbi nodded, unfurling them in front of him. "The fort of San Cristóbal...held off the Dutch, the English, the Americans."
"But apparently, not the aliens," Coulson replied. He turned his gaze down to the map. "Looks like your buddy Diego drew those plans."
"He got them from the city archives," Bobbi told him. "They're older than San Juan itself."
"Well, according to Skye's research, there's a vertical shaft under this fort, somewhere right at the water's edge," the director said.
Bobbi pointed to two concentric circles on the map and then out over the ledge. "The garrison is located underneath that sentry tower. That's the deepest part of the fort."
"And inaccessible to the public, all the better for us," Coulson agreed, indicating to her that she should start rolling up the map. She did, placing it gently in her pack. "Contact FitzSimmons and Mack. Tell them to meet us down there. It's go-time."
Yes, we will see Isabelle in the next few chapters if any of you were wondering. Also, if it occurred to anyone as it did to my beta and me that Bobbi should have just asked Natasha and/or Clint to come along/provide extra firepower when they go to attack HYDRA, yeah, she should have. And I have no reason why she doesn't except the same reason the AoS team doesn't call the Avengers to help every time something really bad happens... ;)
I hope to get another chapter out relatively soon, but it may hinge on my emotional state following this weekend's mad scramble to get SDCC 2016 badges/tickets for the first time. Wish me luck! (Unless of course you're trying too, in which case I completely understand your reticence - it's a crazy, nerve-wracking process.)