Good day all,

This is the second installment of Soul Keeper – I am having a good time with this. I thank you all for the feedback and hope to keep delivering desired content to you all. This is about to become a wild ride, do brace yourselves.

Happy Writing,

Elaine

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The wild grass had always been his grounding element…. More than once Natasha or Laura had watched him from the porch, observing him aimlessly ambling through one of the many fields surrounding the farm. He was at peace there, walking with no decided purpose though the waving stalks as his hand, held out at his side, brushed their lightly haired seed pods. He would lose himself there, nothing but the wind caressing his skin and bringing him the smell of hay mixed with delicate jasmine, the hairs on the grass tickling his palm and the sweet melody of the grains crashing together and his children laughing in the background easing his mind. So he would walk…and walk…and walk…

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As much as he had missed Bruce, Clint had to admit that his friend's spastic fluttering was starting to make him dizzy. Hell, the whole day had been crazy up to this point if he remembered right, so dealing with a hovering Smart Hulk was perfectly in line with how things were meant to go. Their call had been straight forward enough between Bruce's over-excited ramblings and Clint's splitting skull – and not long after that the archer had driven off from the farm with a duffel bag of supplies, his weapons, and a laundry list of questions. The rendezvous was about fifteen miles away from the farm amid some grassland, far away from prying eyes that would watch Hawkeye smile with reckless abandon and give a one-handed firm handshake to his friend Rhodey before entering the quinjet.

He hadn't asked Rhodey what he knew or why it was him that had been sent to retrieve him. In all honesty that didn't matter to him right then. Just seeing an old ally after the crashing of the world they had all suffered through was enough of a reason for him to catch a breath and justify relieving his guard post for a bit. The last true conversation Clint had with Rhodey was a couple of months prior when he had called out of the blue, asking if he could just reminisce with the ex-spy for a while. It had struck Clint as odd at first, but then as he delved deeper it suddenly made a whole lot of sense. Natasha, Tony, Steve – Clint was one of the few who remained that could relive those memories with him. It was an unspoken rule that the foremost name on that list remained off limits…. But the entire ride to the Avengers compound had been filled with pleasant memories and tales of days past. In the back of his mind, Clint reminded himself that only old men had things to reminisce…he didn't want to think on what they made him. He humored Rhodey in his tales, silently grateful that the ones he was involved in remained far from the conversation.

A decent time later they were here. The compound was, in any other light, quite the sight to see. It was sharp, crisp, clean, familiar faces everywhere that the archer had asked Rhodey to help him dodge…just for a while. That request had earned him an odd look, but his friend had seemingly understood (or at least humored him) and made sure to take side routes to avoid as many as possible. Clint had made a point to never venture back onto those grounds after the battle with Thanos and, if he didn't have direct, first-hand knowledge of what happened there he would say that it looked exactly as it did that day – that day.

His mind was alight with searing memories.

Nat's small memorial.

Steve's tears.

Thor's bargaining.

Tony's shield protecting him.

Bruce's snap.

Running for his life through the flooded tunnels.

Fighting with everything he had to get the stones to safety.

His second great loss.

Strange's words to him once Tony's body had been carried away, yet he couldn't leave his knees.

"Barton…There was no other way."

The flash of green fingers in his field of vision caught Clint's attention suddenly and ripped him from his daydream. At his friend's twitch of surprise Bruce gave an apologetic half smile, one massive hand stretching out toward the archer in which his hearing aid lay, delicately cradled out of harm's way. Clint retrieved it after coming to his senses, fitting it into place in his left ear and wincing slightly at the feedback that echoed through his already aching skull. The sounds of the room greeted him, and he looked to Bruce – a silent affirmation that he could hear him again.

"I didn't see anything wrong with it," Bruce told him softly, knowing well that the louder he spoke the louder the hearing aid would feed Clint his voice, "But I also didn't see anything wrong with the scans."

He was referring to the x-rays and CT scans that Bruce had practically corralled his friend into the moment he wandered into the lab, Rhodey offering no protection from Bruce's hovering. So maybe he had been briefed on the whole thing. He recalled the conversation whispered between Rhodes and Bruce as he was left to take a breath and shake his internal anxieties:

"He came to you willingly?"

"Ups the ante, doesn't it?"

"That doesn't mean there's nothing there," the Hulk clarified and again gained his attention, trying to keep his voice as low as he could, "I sent them out to a friend to review."

Hawkeye sent him a sharp look.

"A trusted friend," the doctor stated with his hands raised, palm up in front of him in a peace gesture, "She'll keep it quiet. I just want to be thorough, so we get to the bottom of this. We're pushing a tad past my realm of expertise and I want to ensure I don't miss anything."

After a tense moment Clint relaxed with a half nod, leaning back into the plush chair. It wasn't that he wasn't pleased to see Bruce – his heart was full of joy to be in the presence of one of the men who had inspired him to be all that he could. A true comrade, a true friend…one of his few remaining brothers of old. It was that he hated hospitals. He despised doctors and hospitals and attention; all three of those were present here. He hated being the center of attention. His life was built around the opposite. Bless Laura for throwing him into this mess.

"I can give you something for the pain," Bruce offered him, knowing full well what the answer would be, "or maybe something to calm the headaches you have right now."

"No that's – that's alright, Bruce," Clint rasped out to him with a forced smile, arranging himself to sit forward in the chair, "I just wanted a second opinion, that's all."

The chair he found himself in was a far better alternative than the standard bed he was expected to be on. Bruce hadn't even attempted to ask him to sit on it… it had never ended well. Instead, well before Hawkeye's arrival, he had brought one of the old reading chairs from the library in the room. It seemed to be doing the trick. Bruce friend offered him a knowing smile, reaching out one massive hand to calmly pat him on the knee.

"Now, not to be the Debby Downer here, but are you sure there's nothing else you came to see me for? I'm not saying I'm not overjoyed to see you, but I need to make sure all bridges are crossed before we hit them."

Clint was already well aware that Bruce never asked questions that he didn't know that answer to – ever since the day Clint had almost lost half his kidney to a blast in Germany while retrieving Loki's scepter. He vaguely recalled rasping out to Bruce that it was "literally just a knick, stop being a mother hen" despite losing consciousness and far more blood than was safe, the doctor had always done his homework far ahead of time. If it wasn't so annoying, Clint might actually be impressed. No one could ever read him like Natasha could, but Bruce made a valiant attempt. Today, there was little reason for him to lay it all out in the open, little reason for him to tell Bruce that the voices he was hearing weren't normal and that he thought his judgement had finally caught up with him. There was no need for that nonsense…especially when there was still a chance of something logical. Despite what devastation it could cause later, he secretly hoped for this mystery friend to find a brain tumor. A black spot. Anything. Anything logical that called him to reckon.

His answer to Bruce's question was a fake grin and a shake of his throbbing head – he wasn't going to bring any of this up just yet. It wasn't the right time. Bruce seemed to be skeptical but ultimately accepted the answer with a bob of the massive skull in front of him and a kind tap on the knee by two massive fingers.

"If you feel up for a walk, it's going to take some time to get results back. I'm sure Rhodey won't mind showing off a bit, it's good for his ego."

He opened his mouth to offer a protest – but before he could get the words out Bruce was already up and to the door, opening it and calling to Rhodey. Oh no.

"An Iron Patriot Avengers Headquarters tour?! Oh man have I got a show for you!" Rhodey was suddenly giddily next to him, reaching out an excited hand to pull Clint to his feet. The archer gave an internal groan but a fake external smile, reaching for the offered hand and allowing himself to be pulled up by the excited warrior in front of him. Even he had to admit, Rhodey's enthusiasm was contagious.

"Wait until you see this, man! Oh I've been waitin to give someone a tour around this joint – hey y'know what, let's start in the yard…"

As they headed out of the exam room Clint shot an exacerbated look to Bruce who, to his annoyance, only gave a grin and a wave in return. He resigned himself to his fate and strut alongside his fellow Avenger, somehow resisting the very distinct urge to reach up and turn the hearing aid off as his companion spoke (seriously, did he even need to breathe or had he found a route around that because this was impressive). He knew it was a well-practiced diversion to keep him at ease, and he was both annoyed and impressed to admit that it was working. Rhodes wasn't an incessant talker by nature, but he was showing enough care to break his own character for his friend and Clint couldn't be more grateful.

He and Rhodey perused the halls of the massive compound, all the while the more talkative of the two describing vibrant stories of the remodel, the choosing of paint – oh God the stories of paint – and when they cleared a large walkway that led to the landing zone Clint released what he was pretty sure was an audible breath at the two figures that strut toward them. The two were engrossed in petty bickering a good fifty or so feet away…Barton couldn't help himself.

"Oh man," Rhodes snickered as he watched his companion reach over to a potted plant next to them, picking out a piece of mulch and tossing it loosely in his right hand. They shared a mischievous grin and Clint snapped it from his fingers, watching it satisfaction as it shot through the air and landed with an amusing 'thunk' off the temple of one of his friends.

"Yo – yo what the f-"

Sam quickly went from waving his hands around looking for an invisible assailant to catching a glimpse of Barton - to which confusion broke into a shit-eating grin that spread from ear to ear on his face. His companion caught sight of him too, offering a warm twitch of his lips and a signed 'HELLO' that was returned.

"Yo Clint, how you doin man?" Sam questioned happily as he crossed the distance between them, happily shaking the offered hand and giving his longtime friend a hug.

"Good to see you, Sam," Clint murmured to him warmly, holding him out to an arm's length away and taking in his dress suit. When he saw the star embroidered above his heart he reached out and tapped his friend's chest, giving him a piercing look, "That looks good on you… it suits you. I'm proud of you."

He was rewarded with a wide grin before Sam stepped over to shake Rhodey's hand, leaving Clint and Bucky to greet each other. They had never been a talkative set of friends, but there was never a moment where Clint didn't understand Buck's intentions. Even with the simple handshake they were back on a level, neither one needing words to understand the other.

"Alright, alright," Rhodey called them all to attention, gesturing to the two newcomers, "What are you two doing here? You didn't drop a heads-up."

"Playing special delivery," Bucky grumbled, "Banner called while we were driving to see some damn movie –"

"Why are you so salty today?" Sam hissed to him.

"- and we figured we'd do him the favor. Didn't expect to see Barton here, though."

"Yeah man," Sam agreed looking to Clint who was now rather perturbed the conversation was about him, "What're you doin here? I mean not to say I ain't glad to see you I just wasn't expecting it. Did Rhodey rope you into reviewing his research?"

…okay, he had to bite at that.

"What research?"

To his left Rhodes gave a dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Oh, come on Sam, I hadn't gotten that far yet."

He turned his attention to Barton, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Are ya curious?"

'No'

"Maybe?" Clint offered hesitantly.

"Yup you're interested, c'mon," the colonel announced, lightly popping the archer's elbow as he passed in a message requesting him to follow him. A moment's pondering and the Hawk followed behind Rhodey and Sam, Bucky joining him.

Clint raised an eyebrow in Bucky's direction as a few fingers wiggled to catch his attention. Deftly the Winter Soldier began signing a message to him – one that was so absolutely salty that Clint couldn't help the spluttering laugh that escaped his throat before he quickly clapped his hand over his mouth to block the sound. He and Bucky stood at faux attention when both Rhodey and Sam turned back to them to find the source of the sound, Clint's hand clapped firmly over his mouth in an attempt to hide his clear amusement from the to men that stared them down.

"Just explaining the research," Bucky stated dully, crossing his arms across his chest.

When Clint offered no further explanation Rhodey gave them both a scowl and turned to finish leading the way to his lab. A sudden shot of pain ripped through the archer's mild quickly followed by a wave of numbness – his breath left his lungs when the quick burst of orange flooded his eyes.

With a sharp breath he shook his head and was relieved when it passed. He felt Bucky's searching stare into his temple but chose to ignore it as the group passed into the research lab and Rhodey called the machine to life. Images, charts, and information jumped around the room and Clint had to admit: he was impressed.

"What is all this?" he asked no one in particular, perusing through the room while staring at the various items the computer projected.

"Data," Rhodey provided with a half-shrug, arms folded in front of him. He seemed to be lost in contemplation as he continued, "We've been tracking these odd bursts of energy – we've lost power here twice in the last couple weeks, it's real odd. It seems to only effect electronics and has only been for a few seconds at a time, but we can't find the source of it. Grid is solid, back up generators are on par – it's almost like it freezes everything electronic and halts data processing in the computer system… yet it's in a condensed sphere of influence."

"EMP?" Clint offered, pausing in front of a chart that showed what seemed to be an energy wave with measurements dictating its cusps.

"EMPs have sources," Sam chimed in, "This thing doesn't. It just…. Appears and then disappears."

"And an EMP is finite. Someone has to initiate it and of course we would be able to track it back to where it came from. Every time we try, we come up empty," Rhodey sighed, leaning back against one of the data tables and staring exhaustedly at the ghostly data. Noticing Clint's fascination with the graph, he elaborated, "I've been able to lock onto its signature…. Energy mark looks just like that wave. But when I cross reference it with all known energy signatures, I come up empty. It's the darndest thing. When the signature is present everything stops, when it's gone everything picks up right where it left off. Like a real bad snippet of 'Back to the Future'."

No one keyed into the quietest member of their crew during this discussion. Bucky, in his mullings, was watching Clint closely. He wasn't sure why the ex-assassin was in the compound but by the gathering beads of sweat on his forehead, his slowly hitching breath, and the pinched stress lines by his jaw he could gather that something wasn't right… and he was far from surprised when it finally happened. Clint's mind was suddenly racing again, a sharp claw raking through his soul and growling into his ears so explosively that he slammed his eyes shut. He found himself backpedaling with two shaking hands raised to his temples and ears in an attempt to block the assault.

A flood of orange light.

A flash of white-hot pain.

That voice. This time, it demanded his attention.

It demanded he listen.

A heartbeat drumming in his ears.

'…Clint…'

An involuntary, strangled cry left his throat as his gripped tightened on his head, backpedaling as quick as he could away from the energy wave graph and whatever had to be in front of him. He wouldn't notice the flickering lights, the frozen computers, or the chaos that was suddenly befalling the compound.

'Clint. It comes.'

A heartbeat ricocheting through his agonized skull.

A flash.

The orange faded.

Before he fell from consciousness, he recognized Bucky's vibranium arm under his shoulders and head, but no sound met his ears. He wondered, as his realization drifted from him, when he had fallen to the floor.

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