Clint explains how Maria Hill had been suspicious and then killed, how Phil and Alex had been at each other's throats for a long time, how they'd spoken to Phil in his last minutes and how he'd told them to go to Howard Stark.
Clint wonders if Tony will say anything about being related.
He doesn't.
"He told us to ask you how is Shield." Tony says instead, sounding like he's trying to prove their story.
"No," Natasha clarifies, "he said to ask how is the shield. He made that clarification."
The man's eyes glaze over for a second before he sighs and pulls out a knife. Clint's throat goes dry, the knife looks wicked sharp, The guy flips it around and then pulls it across the ropes, snapping them.
"What kind of knife can cut through carbon fiber like that?" Tony asks, rubbing at his now free wrists.
"A special one." The man responds, while he cuts the ropes on her wrists.
"You look familiar." Tony says, "Have I seen you before?"
"Probably not." The guy says, stepping back and waiting as they stretch out and rub at their wrists and ankles, "been out of the game a long time."
Natasha snorts, "can't be that long. You look barely older than us."
The guy turns to them and looks at them with searching eyes. And says nothing.
Natasha glances at them before asking another question, "you worked at Shield?"
His blue eyes blink at them a few times, "what did Howard and Phil tell you about me?"
"Phil never mentioned you at all. And Howard just said you wouldn't help us. That we should ask the others."
"Others?"
Clint digs in his pocket and pulls out the two remaining coins. "Dunno, just that they were associated with these."
Long and gentle fingers pull the coins off his palm. He looks at them and sighs, "yeah, good luck getting him to help Shield ever since Ross got involved." He puts the Brazilian real back in his palm. Then he tips his head, "he might be willing. Hell of a trek to Norway though." Then he pauses, "Why me? If your dad said I wouldn't help, which is likely, why come to me?"
"Phil was very specific. He said to pick the American Penny and then told us to tell you to "save them"." Clint answers.
"Save who?"
"We don't know."
"Listen—" Tony starts, standing up and brushing off his jeans, "now that we've been hogtied in your basement, can we get to ground level? I'm getting claustrophobic."
The man snorts and then gestures at a set of stairs. "sure. Come on up."
—-
After they exit onto the main floor, Clint realizes why the walls felt wrong. He turns to see the door they'd just exited out of slip seamlessly back into an innocuous part of the wall. No sign that it was a door at all.
His senses prickle. This house has been majorly renovated.
Clint studies the details he'd missed as they walk through the house. There's nothing personal about the place, but there is a coziness. Like it's well lived in, taken care of, and loved. But no photos, no faces. He wonders why that is.
"I'm assuming you're still thirsty and possibly hungry?" They all stay quiet, but Clint nods and the guy nods back, "have a seat."
They sit at the small round dining table and look around. A warm ivory colored kitchen with lots of plants and copper fixtures. Heavy natural wooden shelves and an old style refrigerator complete the look.
"You get a lot of visitors?" Tony asks, "you sure know how to throw out the welcoming mat."
The guy rolls his eyes. "Every once and a while I get a few curious people. They figure out something is different or some agent gets lucky while hunting for me." He shrugs, "you're not the first rats I've caught in my house."
"So we just tell you we're from shield and you believe us?" It's a barb. Clint glares at Natasha to quiet her but he can tell her pride is rubbed the wrong way. She doesn't like that he got the drop on them.
The man, who isn't facing them at the moment, sighs. Then he turns, and his face is so annoyed that Clint almost finds it funny.
Clink hears a woosh, a blur of movement and he's flinching back just a second too late. A knife embeds into the table millimeters from where his thumb and forefinger meet. He blinks up in surprise. Natasha's looking stunned.
"I already told you. If I want you dead, which right now is up in the air but I'm leaning towards it," the man says calmly as if he hadn't moved, "right now I trust that you're coming from Howard Stark. If you prove otherwise, then I'll kill you. Don't tempt me."
It's quiet as he turns back around. Clint yanks the knife up and glares at Natasha. He signs what the hell! We want him to help us. Stop pissing him off!
She glares back and signs I don't trust him!
Tony's blinking back and forth.
"For the record I don't trust you either."
They look up to see the guy staring at them. And then he shakes his head signing, stop thinking you're in control. This will be less painful for you and less annoying for me.
There's another stunned silence and the man just rolls his eyes.
Then Tony leans forward, "why do people hunt for you?"
The man blinks, "what?"
"You just said people hunt for you. Why?"
His face flattens, "they think I have something worth taking."
Tony's voice is trepidatious, "do you?"
The man glares at them, "no."
—
It's quiet until the man sets plates in front of them.
Pancakes, eggs and home fries.
Clint and Tony immediately dig in. They have accepted that if he wanted them dead then he would have killed them already. But Natasha stays still.
The man looks at her, unbothered.
She looks at the plate and then at him. "What did you mean when you said I proved myself more intelligent?"
The first hint of humor appears in his eyes. He gestures at Tony and Clint, "in general—" He picks up a salt shaker and tosses it at Clint, who snatches it out of the air with ease, "men have this automatic response to catch stuff." He shakes his head, "something about hand eye coordination making them feel skilled or more manly." Clint sets the shaker down quietly, somehow feeling chastised though he doesn't know why. The man gestures to Natasha, "women—" then he tips his head in a show of relent, "—in general, don't like things flying at or around them and tend to bat them away. A wise instinct. So whether you, by being a woman, or by training, knew to bat away the device I threw at you, meant to me you were more discerning in a stressful situation."
Tony's still chewing, "uh, what?"
It clicks in Clint's mind. "The thing I caught, that was what knocked me out?"
The guy nods, "you not only caught it, you brought it close to your face to inspect it. The gas released works almost instantly. She—" he points to Nat, "batted it away, which means she had a few extra seconds of mindfulness to fight before it rendered her unconscious."
"Why not just kill us when you found us in your house?" Natasha asks, still glaring at her food.
The man's eyes soften just slightly, "I'm sure that's the treatment you were used to in the Red Room."
Her eyes snap to his, wide and disbelieving. "How—"
"You all fight alike." The man says simply. Then he stabs at his own food lightly, "when did you defect to Shield?"
"Nineteen months ago."
"And they're already letting you into the field." He comments, "that's either impressive on your part or unwise on theirs."
"Mine." Natasha snaps.
And instead of arguing or showing any condescension, he nods, "okay."
"Okay," Tony jumps in, wiping at his face, "seriously, who are you? And why did Coulson send us to you?"
The guy looks at the kitchen wall, where a small painting of a red rose resting against blue velvet is hanging on the wall, "my skill set is unique. But I'm not going to jump into a fight that I don't understand." He shakes his head, "Alex Pierce taking over Shield does make me sick. But there's no proof he killed Coulson. That's something you're going to have to deal with until you get either enough proof to prove him dirty or you realize you were wrong. It's been too long and I was never good at the politics side of it. So I'm sure you'll figure it out. And if you get the chance to tell me when Coulson's funeral is, I'd appreciate it. But other than that, I'm not the guy you're looking for."
Natasha stands, "oh, you tie us up and then toss us out! You were the one Coulson asked for! Only you!"
"Coulson—" the man starts, then he grimaces, "he idolized things he shouldn't have. Okay? He was a good man, and I'm truly sorry he's dead. But political turmoil and corporate turnover is not in my wheelhouse. Especially when there is no proof."
Clint's not sure what to do. They're definitely out on their ears with shield right now. The repercussions for not going to be debriefed will be massive. Pierce will have their heads.
But more importantly…
Phil.
Phil took Clint into Shield even knowing everything. About Clint, about his brother the way he grew up. What he's done.
He looks up at Natasha who is still standing, and maybe she's good at hiding her expressions but he can read the same turmoil on her face.
Coulson gave her a chance too. He took in a deadly fighter who decided she wanted to come clean and he gave her a shot.
And now he's dead.
And someone, most likely Pierce, killed him. And he was just going to get away with it.
No.
"No." Clint says, "you have to help us. I don't know why Coulson chose you. But he did. He said to tell you to 'save them'—" he's frustrated and his voice portrays that.
"You don't even know who them is." The man says back.
"Okay, but that's why Coulson chose you!" Natasha snaps, "he knew you'd know! Or figure it out! He asked us to find Howard Stark who directed us to you."
"Howard…" The man starts, and Clint hears Tony lean forward, wondering what the man will say, "Howard's tried to get me back in the fight multiple times. And I've turned him down everytime. I'm not sure why he thought this time would be—"
"In person?"
"What?"
"Did he call? Did he come out here to talk to you in person?"
The man is slow to respond. "In person—"
"When."
The guy looks up at the other two before looking back at Tony, who has a strange expression on his face, "what?"
"When was the last time he tried to convince you?"
The man's face shifts, "why?"
"Was it 8 years ago?"
The man blinks, as if thinking and his eyes flick to Tony, "how'd you know that?"
Tony's shaking his head, "my dad—" he stabs the word, "got in an accident on the way back from trying to convince you! Never could get out of him why he was coming from Pennsylvania." His face is angry now, "couldn't ask my mom. She died in the accident. He was coming back from talking to you."
The man's eyes widen and his jaw tightens, grief coloring his tone, "Maria is dead?"
Tony reacts like he's been slapped, "you knew my mother?!"
Natasha is shaking her head, "You knew he was Howard's kid?"
The man sighs, "I guessed. He looks similar. Last picture I saw of you… you were only like 11."
"You tied us up!" Tony's shouting.
The man's face shifts, "You're a Stark. You come in two colors, eccentric and dangerous." He points at Tony, "I've seen blood turn on blood and children betray their parents for less than I care to remember. I wasn't going to make assumptions."
"'I haven't been able to convince him for ages.'" Clint repeats, "what was Howard trying to convince you of?"
The man holds up a hand and his gaze focuses on Tony, "They got in an accident?"
Tony's face gets brittle, "yeah." He slumps in his chair, "snowy roads. Some trucker plowed into them. Mom died instantly. Dad had a brain bleed. He's not all there anymore."
The man's face drains of color. "That's why he stopped visiting."
"But he knew his address—" Natasha starts.
"He can't drive." Tony snaps, then takes a deep breath. "Visiting would have meant someone else would have to know his location."
"Your mom knew." Clint mentions.
"Maria was…" the man starts, "the kindest and most patient woman I ever knew. I'm..." his voice sounds full of grief, "I'm sorry for your loss."
"I'm still lost." Clint interjects, "8 years ago you would have been what. In your late teens? Barely 20?" He points at the man, "how do you know Howard Stark? When did you work for Shield?"
The man's eyes are still far away. "I worked with Shield starting at 22. That's where I met Howard.
Clint furrows his brow, he never would have guessed he was older than 25 let alone over 30. "Howard…" the man starts, "is he… okay?"
Tony glares at him, "if by okay you mean 'oscillating between forgetting my mother is dead to trying to bring her back from the dead on the daily'. Then sure. He's fine."
Anguish covers the guy's face. "Is he still in New York?"
The answer is slow. Suspicious. "Yes."
"I will come with you." The man says softly. "I don't know what I can do to help." His eyes are sad and far away. "But I'll try. For Howard. And Maria… I can try."
Clint looks at the rest of the group and then at the man, "uh… okay. We should probably get going then."
The man nods, standing, "do you have a vehicle?"
They nod. "Let me get some things. I'll meet you at the front door."
They shuffle quietly to the door and hear things being moved around.
The man appears with a large circular leather case on his back and a solemn expression on his face. "Let's go."