A/N. Hey, guys. Sorry that took so long. School took over my life. At least I didn't end the last chapter with a cliffhanger, eh? Anyway, hope you enjoy! :D

Chapter Eleven

In the master bedroom, Natasha was sitting on a beanbag chair with her legs crossed and a phone pressed to her ear. It was a severely cracked Stark Phone. She held it firmly to the side of her head and stared across the room. There was something unnerving about the way she sat there. She was extremely still and her breathing was even, but her eyes were wide and her mouth was parted just slightly.

She was off-kilter. She'd just been thrown for a loop and she didn't know how to right herself. When something like this happened, there was only one thing she could do – one person she could talk to.

Clint.

He was in Sharzhad, she knew. But she needed him and he always had the comms unit Stark had installed in his ear the year before. When the phone stopped ringing, Natasha set it down slowly. Comms it is. "Secure Line Four," she ordered JARVIS softly.

"Line Four is secure," replied the A.I.

"Clint?" She waited. If Clint was with people, he wouldn't be able to answer her right away.

"Yeah?" Came the hushed whisper.

It was so good to hear his voice. Good didn't even begin to describe it. Her shoulders sagged with relief and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "Clint," she said again, full of emotion.

That must have sent up red flags because Clint wasn't whispering anymore when next he spoke. "Tasha? What's going on?"

"Clint, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been compromised."

Radio silence. "Nat, what are you talking about?"

"Hydra. It's back. We thought we destroyed it when they kidnapped Tania and Steve. We thought those were the last of them. They weren't. It wasn't even the beginning." She pressed the heels of her palms deep into her eye sockets. "Hydra-"

"Shit," breathed Clint.

Natasha sighed. "I know. Clint, you have to get out of there."

...

"Clint?"

"Line Four is no longer secure," JARVIS announced in her ear. "I am sorry."

Natasha's heart squeezed painfully in her chest. No. Not Clint. Anyone but Clint. "Barton?" She called. "Hawk!"

"Line Four is no longer secure."

"Shit!" Clint dove for cover behind a neatly stacked wall of crates. The squeaking of wheels rolled past. He squatted and listened, sweat dripping down his forehead and along the back of his neck. The squeaks gradually faded and disappeared around the corner of the next building over, bumping on an endless amount of rocks as it did so. Clint blew out a breath of hot air and turned on his heel, spinning to a standing position. He started walking in the other direction. "Natasha?" He hissed under his breath.

"Line Four is no longer secure," JARVIS rattled off in Clint's ear.

"What do you mean by 'not secure'?" He picked up the pace, resisting the urge to wipe the perspiration from his fake eyebrows.

"The line has been intercepted. Someone is listening."

Fuck it all. Clint broke into a sprint. "Is our cover blown?"

"Not that I am aware."

"Is Line Two secure?"

"Yes. Shall I patch you through?"

"Do it." Clint burst through the doors of an old storage unit and ducked behind several boxes piled high enough to hide behind. It was only a couple of degrees cooler in there, but at least the sun couldn't burn off his hair.

"Clint?" Stevenson sounded wary, like she was ready to run at a moment's notice.

"Viola," he breathed, unsure if he should be relieved or pissed. For all he knew, she could be Hydra, but his instincts were telling him that that wasn't the case. Innocent until proven guilty, right? "Where are you?"

"In our room. Why?"

"Wait for me there. I'm on my way."

"But you have a meeting with Dagan Shah in-"

"I know!" He snapped as quietly as he could. "Change of plans." Coast was clear. He spun out from behind the weapons and continued running. The humidity made it felt like he was running through melted butter. He pushed himself to go faster. Their cover might not have been blown yet. They might still have time.

"What's wrong?" She sounded worried now. "Are you in danger?"

"Not yet," he replied honestly. "But I've got reason to believe that it's imminent."

"Enlighten me."

"I'll tell you when I get there."

"Either you're really stubborn or the comms have been compromised, in which case, why are we still using them?"

"It's not our comms. One of the supposedly secure channels was hacked and now I can't call my friends." "Friends" translating roughly to "Avengers" and/or "back-up". "We might be on our own for this one."

"I know you don't usually have an extraction team, but I do. When I work solo, anyway. Is Line One secure?"

"Affirmative," JARVIS answered for both of them.

Clint took the wooden stairs three at a time. "Not sure that's such a good thing."

"What do you mean? They're our back-up."

"Would you shut up already? I'm coming to you. Wait, like, forty-five seconds."

"Fine," she huffed.

He threw himself under a hole in the brick wall of a building and found himself in darkness. There was a winding staircase that would take him where he needed to go. He reached up, grabbed onto the above railing and hefted himself over it, flipping his body in a tightly controlled circle before landing on his feet. He wanted to kick the door open (he was in that kind of mood), but this was one of those times where attention was a bad thing. He opened it like a rational human being (which was absolutely no fun) and closed it without slamming it.

Viola stopped her pacing and approached him. She was wearing the traditional clothing, but the hood was pulled down and her black hair flowed down her shoulders, allowing her real identity to show. Her mouth was pulled down slightly at the corners. "I've cleared the place for bugs. There's nothing. Talk."

Clint wasted no time. "I just got a call from Romanoff. She said two things. One: SHIELD's compromised. Two: Hydra's back from the dead."

Viola's eyes were so wide that Clint thought he saw more white than brown. "That-! That's not-!"

"The Black Widow just called me to warn us and I believe her." Natasha had sounded… disturbed. He only ever heard her sound like that twice. It was a sound he'd hoped never to have to hear again. "We can't trust SHIELD."

"Well then who can we trust?" Viola demanded of the ceiling, throwing up her arms and turning back to her pacing.

"Can I trust you?" He asked her quietly.

She stopped, facing away from him. "I could ask you the same question."

They stood like that, trapped in a stalemate, as the seconds ticked by. If Clint didn't show up for his meeting in a few minutes, someone would be coming to investigate.

"If Hydra's taken SHIELD, we're going to need as many allies as we can get," Viola said slowly. "If we ever want to get out of this place, we're going to need help." She paused. "Can we have an alliance?"

"This isn't the Hunger Games."

She snorted. "I don't know. You've got the bow for it, Katniss."

"Hey. Only Stark gets to call me random nicknames."

"Clint." She turned to face him, hands empty. He knew that she had to have at least five weapons on her person, but she didn't reach for any of them. "I know you were a SHIELD agent first, but I think you're an Avenger last and to me that's more important." She sucked in a deep breath. "I trust you."

Logically, Clint should probably just run. But she was right. He could use all the help he could get. They were stuck deep undercover in the throes of crime empires in the Middle East, working for one of the biggest arms dealers out there. They couldn't afford to blow their covers, not now that an extraction was most definitely not imminent.

In the four months he'd spent in Sharzhad, Viola had been the only thing capable of making him smile (excluding the occasional contact with his family). They'd become comfortable with each other and Clint was surprised to find that he really did trust her. This new information, though… it threw a wrench in things.

"Your dad was SHIELD too, right?" He asked carefully.

Her eyes narrowed and her hands met her hips. "Yeah," she replied stiffly.

"Was he-?"

"Don't … finish that sentence." Her voice was deeper and she looked menacingly at him. "My dad was a hero. He wanted to help people. SHIELD came to him and recruited him because he stopped a crime out of the goodness of his heart. He wasn't Hydra." She sounded certain enough to have chiseled that statement into stone.

"And you? How were you recruited?"

"I needed money," she said bluntly. "They approached me a few times, but I was determined to be- well." She looked away. "I was determined not to need adrenaline in my life. I didn't want to live my life on thrills and- But then I was drowning in student debt and my roommate moved away and I couldn't find a good enough job- SHIELD pays well, okay? I accepted the offer out of desperation. I didn't want to be a SHIELD agent. I have a B.A. in mythology. That's about as mundane a degree as you can get."

Clint mulled this over, turning it around and around in his mind. "I think there's a simple way to settle this." It didn't occur to him earlier because he'd never used that particular function. "JARVIS? Is she telling the truth?"

"Yes, Sir. Sensors indicate that Agent Stevenson is indeed being honest."

"Are you Hydra?" Better to just get it over with.

Viola's stance didn't change. "No," she said without hesitation.

"JARVIS?"

"She is still telling the truth."

Clint's shoulders relaxed a little. "Works for me."

"And you? Are you Hydra?"

"No."

"Agent Barton is also telling the truth."

Viola's expression softened and she dropped her arms. "Glad to know I have an ally in this situation."

"Glad to know I have a friend," Clint returned.

Viola smiled at him.

Knock-knock-knock.

Natasha jumped, uncrossing her legs and reaching for her gun in one swift movement.

"Can I come in?" It was just Sam.

"Yes," she responded coolly, sliding her mask back down and her gun back into its holster. She didn't trust this guy. Steve and Tania both seemed to like him, but neither really knew him. Natasha would make her own judgement.

The door opened and Sam leaned in the doorway. "I made breakfast," he announced casually. "According to Cap and Sonata, you people do eat that sort of thing."

"Of course." Natasha stood up confidently and walked out the door, brushing gently past Sam and making for the kitchen. She was shaken up inside, but she wouldn't let this guy see that. On the way there, she ran into Steve and Tania, who could apparently both see right through her.

When did she start letting people see the real her? When did she start letting people see her emotions? This was scaring her. It was scaring her almost as much as the fact that she'd actually been working for a Nazi organization this whole time.

All those missions she completed. All those people she put away or killed. The people she saved. Who were they? Good guys? Bad guys? Innocents? Criminals? What has SHIELD- Hydra been making her do all these years?

Could she have just been lengthening, reddening, staining her ledger even further this entire time? When all she'd wanted was a shot at redemption? She was supposed to be an agent, not a cold-blooded assassin. She was supposed to be an Avenger, not a Nazi supporter. She was supposed to be a… a hero.

Or try to be.

But that was never what she was. She thought she had a second chance. She thought she could… lessen the weight of her guilt. Of the names on her list. Of their deaths on her shoulders.

She was wrong.

A hand on her arm pulled her from her daze. Steve gently tugged her aside and encouraged Tania to go on ahead. Natasha felt… heavier than she had since meeting Clint. Her feet were like lead and her head felt like a balloon. Her balance was fleeting, but Steve was steadying and he grounded her.

"What's going on?" He asked when Sam and Tania had continued on without them into the kitchen. He was quiet and sincere and suddenly she knew. He was a friend. A real one. One of the best. One she could trust – with everything.

"When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight," she confessed, remembering the looks of hatred and fear and jealousy in the eyes of the other agents. She remembered Fury's penetrating glares and Coulson's heavy disapproval. But that's what made SHIELD different than the Red Room. "But I guess I just traded in the KGB for Hydra." It wasn't that different after all.

Steve said nothing, listening intently and waiting patiently.

She looked down. "I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but..." She looked up and tried to quirk something akin to a smile. "I guess I can't tell the difference anymore."

Tania watched her two friends console each other in whispers, having a heart-to-heart not unlike the one she and Steve had just had. It was really rewarding to watch Natasha blossom as an Avenger – as a person. Watching her learn to trust and to, dare she say, love. It made Tania feel all warm and gooey inside; like melted chocolate. Dark was Natasha's favourite.

The scrape of a chair on tiled floor made her turn back to the table, untwisting her spine to face Sam, who sat across the too-tiny table from her. He smiled lopsidedly and she grinned back, rubbing her calves together under the table. They were still sore.

"Should we wait?" Sam asked, peeking into the hallway where Steve and Natasha were having their hushed and serious conversation.

Tania shrugged. "We don't have to. But it's your house. Your rules."

He smiled. "Then I say, first come first serve."

Tania chuckled and stabbed her stack of pancakes with her fork. Dragging her bare feet across the floor, she stuffed the first bite of food into her mouth. She hummed appreciatively. "Not bad. I've had better," she teased, swallowing the fluffiness of a cloud.

"Yeah?" Sam prompted, eyebrows raised playfully. "Whose?"

"Hawkeye's of course."

As if drawn to the mere mention of Clint's name, Natasha materialized to Tania's right and sat down, looking steadier than she had a few minutes ago. In fact, she looked as she always did – unaffected by anything. Steve sat on the left, pulling his chair in and scraping it like Sam had done. "What are we talking about?"

"Clint's cooking," Tania replied, mouth full. She'd always had a problem with talking with food in her mouth, but to be perfectly honest, everyone else did it too, so she was totally justified. "And how it's better than Sam's."

Steve and Natasha both murmured their agreement.

Taking mock offense, Sam held a hand to his chest. "You guys haven't even tried it yet! How dare you?"

Obligingly, Steve and Natasha dug in, nodding at the first bite. "This is really good," said Natasha truthfully, wiping some syrup from the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "Not the way I like them, but…"

"Y'all can shut up anytime now," Sam said playfully, forking more food into his mouth for dramatic effect.

When plates were licked clean and forks had all clanked onto dishes, the group turned serious. By this time, everyone's hair had dried from their showers and everyone felt mostly recovered enough to take on whatever the day had in store.

"So the question is: who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?" Natasha flipped her hair (seriously, how is that perfect without styling it at all?) and leaned forward on the back of her chair.

Sam, who was cleaning out the glasses they'd used to drink orange juice, looked over at Steve and Tania, who knew more about the organization than he did. He seemed to be doing the dishes as if he needed to feel productive.

"Pierce," breathed Steve with dawning realization.

Of course.

Tania sighed as Natasha stood and began to pace. "Who just so happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world."

"Except the Tower," Tania mumbled. She wanted to contribute, but honestly she didn't know what to say. She was with Sam, in that respect.

"He's not working alone," Steve stated, staring off into the distance and rubbing his fingers together in thought. "Zola's algorithm was on the Lemurian Star."

The what now?

Natasha's eyes widened and she straightened her head from its tilted position. "So was Jasper Sitwell."

Sitwell? Tania knew that name. SHIELD agent. Friend of Coulson's. Present during the Helicarrier attack. Maybe during the New Mexico thing? She couldn't remember. What did he have to do with anything?

Steve seemed to have just understood something, if his bobbing head was anything to go by. "So the real question is: how do the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?"

"Okay, I'm lost," blurted Tania as Sam left the room. "Why are we kidnapping Sitwell?"

"Because he's Hydra," Natasha answered, shaking her head with either disgust or regret or… Okay. Tania didn't really know what with. "He was on a boat that Steve and I rescued the other day from pirates."

Tania's eyebrows lifted.

"Not those kind of pirates."

"O... kay… and how are we going to do this?"

"You're not," answered Sam as he returned to the room carrying a manila folder. He dropped it on the table in front of her and Steve.

"What's this?" Steve asked, standing and reaching for the file. Tania stood as well and leaned in closer to peer over his shoulder for a better look. Natasha looked over Steve's other shoulder.

"Call it a resume," Sam responded, leaning back against the counter.

Natasha plucked a piece of paper from the folder. "Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission. That was you?" She looked at him for confirmation.

He lifted his chin slightly.

"You didn't say he was a para-rescue." She handed the paper to Steve, who tilted it so that Tania could see.

It was a photo of Sam and some other soldiers, a few of which were wearing odd equipment. It looked kind of like a jetpack, if Tania had to guess.

"Is this Riley?" Asked Steve quietly.

"Yeah," Sam replied.

Tania looked again. She was looking at a dead man – one who'd been a good friend to the man in front of her. "I'm sorry," she said. It was pointless, but she felt the need to say it again.

"It's okay."

"I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs." Natasha continued pouring over the papers in Sam's file, now very interested. "What did you use? A stealth chute?"

What was a stealth chute?

"No." Sam moved closer and picked up a folder within the folder. He handed it to Steve. "These."

Steve opened the cover to reveal more photos. Tania whistled. Sam and Riley weren't wearing jetpacks, though her guess had been pretty close. They were wearing mechanical wings that stretched what looked like at least four feet each way. "That's so cool," she breathed. It was like the Iron Man suit, but without the armour part. Well, not really. Just the flying part was the same. Still.

Graham would absolutely love it. He'd think it was the most awesome thing and beg to take it for a spin. She smiled at the thought. He was such a child.

"I thought you said you were a pilot," Steve said, looking at Sam with an amused expression.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "I never said pilot."

Huh.

Steve looked back down at the file, contemplating something. His smile faded. Uh oh. She knew that look. "I can't ask you to do this, Sam," he said, closing the file.

She hit him in the arm. It was the three of them against all of SHIELD/Hydra. They needed all the help they could get.

Steve pretended not to have felt it. "You got out for a good reason."

"Dude. Captain America needs my help. There's no better reason to get back in." Sam seemed determined to help them. Thank God for good people in this world.

Steve seemed to think that was an acceptable answer, because he asked: "Where can we get our hands on one of these things?"

"The last one is at Fort Meade behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall." Sam held back any reaction of his own, but he was studying theirs rather acutely.

Well then.

Both Tania and Steve immediately looked to Natasha, who shrugged like it should be a piece of cake. Steve turned back to Sam. "Shouldn't be a problem."