...

Alex waited outside of Panov's clinic watching and waiting. He knew that his friend would welcome any intrusion he could give. Fury had been trying to convince the man to return to work for SHIELD.

Mo refused every single time he visited. Fury had been the reason a patient lost all trust in him. More than two years of therapy out the window. Not that the doctor blamed Barton for leaving. He had been lied to and was told the first person who gave him a chance was dead. Then to find out in the worst way possible that he was alive. Sure all of the Avengers reacted badly but Barton ran.

Alex wondered occasionally what would have happened if he hadn't joined the Treadstone 71st operation. Where would the ex-assassin go? Return to the underworld he brought the fear of God to? He doubted it. It was far more likely he would have simply disappeared. There was so much darkness in his mind and it only got worse after the Battle of New York.

Alex stiffened when he heard a loud shout. That was Mo. Fury must have said something incredibly stupid if he got the good doctor to yell at him. Even with Alex's alcohol problem hadn't received more than a chiding tone. When Mo spoke no matter who you were you felt as if you needed to listen.

Then the door to the clinic opened and one Nick Fury stormed out. Oh someone was pissed off. He would have to ask Mo about what he said.

Alex watched as Fury headed down the street before entering an alley. Two minutes later a dark SUV with tinted windows came out. SHIELD issue as usual. Quinjets were too conspicuous.

After five more minutes of waiting to ensure no one was watching Alex crossed the street and entered the clinic. Unsurprisingly the good doctor was standing beside his receptionist's desk. He was talking to the young nurse trainee. It took a few moments for the nurse to notice him.

She greeted cheerfully, "Good evening. Do you have an appointment?"

Mo turned to see who she was talking to. Alex saw the way his friend's face paled and glanced around. He was ensuring that there weren't any SHIELD agents nearby.

Alex said with a smile meant to put her at ease, "I'm here to speak to Doctor Panov but I don't have an appointment."

She opened her mouth to respond but Mo held up his hand. He said, "It's fine, Annie. I know Alex very well and will go speak with him."

"If your sure doctor," she said uncertainly.

Mo gave her a reassuring smile. It dropped as soon as he turned to look at Alex. If he was being fair he deserved the suspicion. Mo knew that if anyone knew where Barton was it was him. The doctor beckoned for him to follow into one of the rooms.

Like most of the other offices that Mo ran it had chairs scattered all throughout it. Different sizes and kinds allowed any patient to feel comfortable. There was a single desk that was empty. Alex moved to stand in the blind spot of the door. Mo moved so that he leaned against the desk.

After a few moments of silence, Mo asked, "Alex what brings you in? You haven't come for a session in months. If anything you've been avoiding me."

Alex withheld a sigh as he replied honestly, "Your right, Mo. I have been avoiding you as much as I could. For good reason though."

Mo folded his arms across his chest as he asked his voice cold and his old holding disappointment, "Good reason? Alex our talks are important even if they aren't about your mission. You have admitted as much on several occasions. What would cause you to throw away years worth of therapy?"

Unable to hold his gaze any longer Alex looked away. No one wanted to see Mo's disappointed stare. It made you feel as if you were only an inch tall. Alex felt particularly bad given how much he had worked to put the agent's mind back together.

Alcoholism and war had taken their toll. He wasn't nearly as bad as Barton, he wasn't a part of Medusa. Not really. His status as a field agent had him on the legal side of things. Though if there was an issue with one of the more dangerous teams he was called in to try and talk sense into them. Usually, this was Barton's Century Team 12 as Barton would listen to him. Most of the time.

The remainder of Barton made him remember why he was there. It was not to explain himself to Mo. He was here to get help for the agent that was slipping. Alex had seen the product of Medusa. Gordon had been saved by it. This was something more and it terrified them. The fact that Barton could recognize that did not make it better. If anything it made it worse.

So meeting Mo's disapproving look he said, "I have not come for me, Mo. It's Barton."

An exasperated sigh escaped the doctor, "I have told Fury, his agents, and even the damn Avengers. I have not heard, seen, or corresponded with Agent Barton since he disappeared. I don't even know if he is dead or alive."

Reluctantly Alex admitted, "That was the plan."

"Excuse me?" If it was possible Mo's voice became even colder.

"It was planned that way when he agreed to join the newest plan," continued Alex, "We had to make sure there was no trace of Clint Barton so his undercover identity would work."

Mo asked obviously trying to keep ahold of his temper, "Alex what have you done?"

"This is a Four-Zero."

He watched as the words sunk in. Every muscle in Mo stiffened with surprise. There was a tightening across his face showing his anger. It was one of the few times Alex had ever seen him angry enough to show it. It ate at him to know he was the cause of the anger. Then he got off the desk and pulled a chair around to sit.

"Four-Zero? Call in one of your staff men. I've never requested that kind of clearance."

Alex tried, "I can't. That's how tight it is."

Mo shook his head, "Then you'd better whisper to God."

"Mo, please," pleaded Alex, "He needs your help. Hell, I need your help."

For a long moment, the doctor searched his gaze. It was as if he was looking for a lie and Alex didn't blame him. There was so much wrong with this line of work. Lying to a psychiatrist wasn't beyond possibility. Alex wasn't lying though.

Finally, Mo allowed, "If I can. Go ahead."

"A man is placed in a highly volatile, maximum stress situation for a long period of time, the entire period in deep cover. The cover itself is a decoy—very visible, very negative, constant pressure applied to maintain that visibility. The purpose is to draw out a target similar to the decoy by convincing the target that the decoy's a threat, forcing the target into the open.… Are you with me so far?"

"So far," said Mo not liking where this is going, "You say there's been constant pressure on the decoy to maintain a negative, highly visible profile. What's been his environment?"

"As brutal as you can imagine," admitted Alex.

"For how long a period of time?"

"A year," whispered Alex watching as recognition crossed Mo's face.

Mo asked his voice barely above a whisper, "When will you damn fools learn? Even prisoners in the worst camps could be themselves, talk to others who were themselves—" Mo stopped, catching his own words and Alex's meaning. "That's your point, isn't it?"

Alex simply nodded.

Mo rubbed a hand through his hair trying to calm himself. It was an action that Alex recognized for what it was. He had the feeling if it wasn't for all of the doctor's training Barton would need a new handler. No one, absolutely no one messed with Mo's patients.

Finally, he asked, "What do you want from me, Alex?"

Finally, he was getting somewhere, "We need you to talk to him. He's slipping, Mo. There are times where even Gordon doesn't know who's talking. Please."

There was a long moment of silence then, "I'll try."