It wasn't new for Clint to get a little teasing from the gang each time he put on his mission gear, more so lately now that he was trying a new one-armed top to allow him more freedom to move with the bow.  He had been accused of trying to look like Bucky so many times that he had lost count, going so far as to switch which side of the top was sleeveless, only to switch it back when the feel wasn't right and an arrow came within inches of Steve's head during practice. 

This getup, however, was nothing like his Avengers uniform, and he could only imagine the crap the team would give him if they could see him now.  The sleek black of his suit was replaced with ridiculous bright red tights, for lack of a better word, with a blaring green and gold top that made him feel like an overstuffed bird.  No ordinary undercover mission would ever be worth this, but after his first performance at the small travelling circus they were investigating, he met you, and he suddenly didn't care so much about what anyone thought.

"I think I should be hanging out with Batman," he laughed, turning to you to help him secure the cheap quiver he was given by the circus owners to use during the show.  It was clearly second-hand, if not already handed down to someone even four or five times.  The leather strap to hold it in place was worn and frayed, with a few patches that were worn so thin that he wasn't sure how it was staying together in the first place.  "I'm totally changing my stage name to Robin."

"Wrong universe."

"What?"

"Huh?" you startled when you realized that you had said the words aloud.  "Nothing...uh...anyway...I think it's a good look for you," you lied politely, trying to change the subject, "even if your plumage is a little puffy and frazzled around the edges.  It suits the attitude, if you ask me."

"Don't recall that I did."

"Well, still."

Clint smirked and turned to grab the rest of his costume, shaking his head in disgust at the low quality of arrows that he was given to work with, knowing that the were the same ones that he had used the night before, and the night before that, and so on.  The show owners were so tight with their earnings that they had just removed them from his target and snuck them back into his trailer as if he wouldn't notice.  He had wanted to bring his own gear but Steve wouldn't let him, worrying that it could give his identity away and ruin his mission here before it had a chance to start.  He had gone so far as to grow a beard to disguise himself more, as a compromise to keep his bow, but he still didn't get his way.

"So, are you actually going on stage tonight?" he asked.  "I haven't seen a single performance out of you since I got here."

"Of course I am.  Hold on, didn't you hear?  We have some special guests in the audience tonight!  I'm so excited!"

Clint's attention was focused intently now, wondering who the guests would be and why they were there.  Over the last several months, this circus had reports of audience members mysteriously going missing after the show, and if these people held any significance, they would most definitely be targets. 

"I'm almost afraid to ask who they are," he replied cautiously.  Now more than ever, he was cursing Rogers for denying him the chance to really defend himself and leave him with dollar store grade arrows to get by with if a fight broke out.

"It's Captain America and Iron Man!"

"Oh, god..."

"What, is that bad?"

"No," he quickly covered, but it was hard to force a smile as he looked down at his atrocious costume again, "not bad.  Just...unexpected.  Actually," he stopped, shaking his head, "I suppose it's not.  Maybe they got wind of how amazing I am and are here to recruit me." 

"Pfft, yeah, okay," you scoffed, "keep the dream alive."  He turned to the door and held it open with a hand extended to allow you to exit first.  As you passed by it didn't escape you when he took a long, deep breath through his nose, taking in your perfume; the almost silent hum from deep in his chest could have been missed, but he wasn't making any attempt to hide it. 

"I can't wait to finally see you out there," Clint sighed, pulling himself back to reality.  "I've been here for two weeks waiting for this, so you had better live up to my ridiculous expectations."

"Mmm," you murmured, hurrying away towards the center ring to make your entrance as the opening act.  His footsteps were quietly moving up faster behind you but you didn't turn back again as to not risk giving yourself away; he may have read the guilt in your eyes if you looked at him now.  The man who had so quickly become your friend had definitely been at your show before, but he just didn't remember it; no one who heard you sing did.  It was your job to make sure that they didn't, and it was your job to ensure that when Hydra moved in to take who they wanted, you kept their focus on you until they could be collected.

When you discovered your powers of mind control as a child, singing the very same hypnotic song on your school playground, you never knew that this is what you would do with it one day.  When you stood in shock, looking back at the blank and frozen faces of your childhood friends as you sang, it never once crossed your mind that you could grow into someone so evil.  But for the first time since this whole thing began for you, you questioned what you were doing.  In the short span of two weeks, this smartass archer in the bird suit had made you see that you could be more, and that you could be a good person; that it was never too late to learn how to shoot straight.

~~~

When the show was finished, you were summoned by the ring master to join him to meet the honored guests of the evening, and your nerves immediately built.  Were they there because they knew about the cover that Hydra was using?  Did they know your part in it somehow?  Maybe there was a small chance that they really did just want to see the show on their down time and you were overreacting for nothing.

"I'm not gonna go out there," Clint announced, leaning in to kiss your cheek as he excused himself, "you go ahead and we can talk later.  You can tell me if they're as hot in person as everyone says they are.  I'm totally just dying to know if Steve's eyes glimmer like the light of a full moon over calm waters," he squealed in mock excitement. 

"That was...awkward.  But nope, we're going," you ordered, taking his arm, "you can't make me go out there alone with them.  I'm so nervous, I don't know what to say!"

"Hello usually works.  Probably start with, 'hi, I'm (Y/N)'.  Keep it simple."

"Right, and then faint at their feet.  Almost too simple."  The two of you stepped through the curtain together, moving into the center ring where you saw the two Avengers standing with your boss, who looked so eager to keep their attention that you felt physically ill at his lack of dignity in fawning over them.

"Ah!  Here's the star of my show now!" 

"Is that me or you?" Clint whispered smugly in your ear as you continued to drag him along.

"Behave," you hissed back, keeping your focus on not tripping over your own feet until the moment came that you were in front of them.  "Hello, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark," you greeted politely, yet still meekly and with a strained voice filled with nervousness.  "I'm (Y/N).  It's an honor to meet you."

"I wouldn't go that far," Clint chuckled under his breath, nudging you with his shoulder.

"Franny, I said to behave."

"Woah, hold up, sweetheart," Tony broke in, "did I mishear you, or did you just call him Franny?"

"Yeah, he uh...he told us that his name is Francis, but he won't let any of us call him that.  I had to come up with something better than Arrow Guy."

"That's absolutely better," Steve laughed, taking out his phone to open his texts and scrolling as quickly as he could to Natasha's number.  "Oh, man, that's so much better."

Clint's eyes shot open wide as he looked back and forth between Tony and Steve, his expression begging them to not push the topic and to just do him the one favor of dropping it.  "What the hell, (Y/N), I thought that was just between us?"

"Hey, Franny, watch your tone with the lady," Steve warned.

"Yeah, Franny, be nice," Tony agreed with a curt nod, "you're the one who came in here with the attitude.  By the way, I've gotta say, that suit is just fabulous.  Is Batsy letting you stay out late tonight?  If the Batcave's rocking, don't come knocking?"

"He doesn't exist in this...it's the wrong..." you began in a groan of exasperation, but caught yourself again, "okay, so introductions have gone swimmingly, so can I ask what brings you here, gentlemen?"

"You know exactly what brings us here, ma'am."  Steve's voice was no longer jovial now in a sharp swing of mood, as he put away his phone and took a small step towards you.  His height was intimidating enough as he stood over you, looking down with stern eyes, but his muscular build was impressive and domineering, leaving you with a heart that was pounding from your chest and a fear that he could take another step.

"Cap, what's with the attitude?" Clint asked, taking a step forward of his own to close the gap behind you.  "Just spit it out.  If you have something to say, then let's hear it."  His hand raised to rest on your lower back in a show of support, but it didn't escape Steve's heightened awareness to catch the goose bumps rising on your forearms at the connection.  His gaze shifted to Clint and back to you several times before he spoke again.

"We have a reason to believe..."

"We think that maybe you have the exact information that we need.  You see," Tony paused with a sigh, now taking out his own phone, "if I record your performance without sound, I can watch it without a problem."  He tapped the screen a few times, turning the device towards you and Clint to alight the room with video of the show you had just finished.  "But when we were sitting in the audience for the live version, it all went very deer in the headlights for me."  He tapped the screen again, showing himself and Steve sitting trancelike with blank expressions as you sang, while Hydra agents moved in around them in shadows to take a few select audience members away. 

"I think it's time that you leave," you replied fearfully.  "I think you all need to go.  Please."  Your hand absentmindedly reached back to find Clint's, but when you turned to see him, it came to your attention before anyone else that your boss was nowhere to be found.  "Please, it's for your own safety.  You should hurry."

Clint wasn't having it at all, and he wasn't about to budge until he had answers; as much as you admired the man's tenacity, this wasn't the time that you could find it endearing.  He pushed forward to stand between you and his teammates, standing so close to you now that you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against you as he took each breath.  "We'll protect you."

"We'll...?  What do you mean?"

"Man, I was really hoping that you were just playing along," he grumbled, backing away and hurrying now to remove the costume that he was just dying to strip away once and for all and for the final time.  "You seriously didn't know who I was?  I'm an Avenger and you really didn't know?  Even with the miracle shots I was firing?  Hawkeye?  Nothing?"

You squinted and studied his features, and thought that maybe you could see some familiarity in them, but it still wasn't as obvious as he was hoping that it would be.  "Maybe it's the beard?" you whispered.  "I think if it would have grown in a little better, it wouldn't be so distracting."

Tony scoffed loudly enough to break into a coughing fit and pained laughter at the accidental insult, earning a warning glare from Clint that even he didn't think would work.  "It's all right, Barton, not everyone can grow a beard.  You gave it a worthy shot."

"He's right," Steve added, "I can't grow a descent beard to save my life, and I think I'd look pretty good, don't you?"

"Guys, we're getting off track," you tried to add.

"Sure, Cap, I bet you would," Tony agreed.  "Like...hey, like that Evans guy.  He grows that thing in like a day.  I could see you with that."

"I appreciate that, thanks."

"Guys!" you attempted again, more forcefully.  "You need to go!  Besides, the Evans beard is nothing less than magical and you're being delusional." 

"You're coming with us," Clint insisted again, "no way in hell that I'm leaving you here, (Y/N)."

"Don't make me drag you out of here.  All I have to do is sing and you're under my control," you warned.  "I don't want to do that, so please just go.  If you don't, they're going to use me to capture you, but when you come out of it, you'll be theirs and they'll keep me from trying to help you.  So let me help you now.  Leave me here."

Clint began to offer another angry retort, but the lights flickered and dimmed over your heads until they shut off to black and darkened the room around you.  You could hear the scuffle of feet around you, and the grunts and hits of fighting; if you started to sing, everyone would be stopped, but before you could take the first breath to start, you were silenced.

When your eyes opened again, who knows how much later, you were in your dressing room, ready for your next show, with your Avengers nowhere to be found.

Part 2

"Franny?" you called out quietly, searching from room to room to find your lost friend, but to no avail. There was no sign that Clint had ever even existed and that he was nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

But you were certain that he wasn't. You remembered him; the sound of his voice was echoing in your head at that very moment, as if he were standing right next to you. No way in hell that I'm leaving you here, he said, and you believed fully that he would have kept that promise no matter what had happened. You don't recall using your singing to control him, so how was it that three Avengers could just disappear so easily?

"Get your ass on stage."

You jumped so violently at the man's voice behind you that you hit your head on the door frame as you stood in surprise, groaning in pain as you tried to rub it away. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he snapped, "boss is all kinds of pissed at you for letting those three get away. But don't worry, there's no way that they'll ever find you now, he's made sure of that."

"They got away?" you smiled, but it quickly faded when he burst forward and grabbed your arms with a pinching grip that made you wince, much to his delight.

"Don't get all giddy about it, because we're gonna find them before they even try to start looking for you, if they even will. So rather than wasting your time with those dreamy thoughts of your arrow slinger coming to rescue you, get out there and do your job."

"I won't."

"I'm sorry," he hissed, "I don't think I heard you correctly." He tightened his grip until his fingernails dug into your skin, and blood began to run down your arm and onto the floor at your feet. "Care to try that again?"

"I said...I won't."

He released your arm with a snap of his hand, all but throwing it from his grip with a deep growl in his chest and a fire growing in his eyes. The force threw you back a few steps, but you held your own and managed to stay upright to hold his attention. "You're a stupid girl. You don't even realize what you've just done for yourself, do you? He's not going to like this."

"I don't care," you replied, straightening your posture, your chin up in defiance. "He can do what he wants with me, because I won't help you hurt them. I won't help you hurt anyone anymore."

"Aw, did your boyfriend make you feel brave? Like you were worth something?" he mocked. "Well you're neither. You'll very soon feel that truth."

~~~

Steve woke up in a stupor, feeling like the hangover he had after the first time Bucky had gotten him drunk, well before the serum made it impossible. He opened his eyes to find himself on the lawn at the compound, face down in the grass with his clothes stained green from the impact of his body landing on it. With a pained groan and the cruel reminder that he really was nearly a hundred years old, he pushed his hands beneath himself to try to stand, but the world around him was spinning; he quickly dropped back to his knees and searched his pockets for his phone with his eyes tightly shut.

"FRIDAY...Tony..."

"Mr. Stark is indisposed, Captain," she replied, "I've been trying to wake him for the past twenty minutes but have been unable."

"Bar-" he stopped in the middle of a heave, waiting for a wash of nausea to pass before he tried again, "Barton?"

"Mr. Barton woke an hour ago and has left the facility."

"Where?"

"Uncertain, sir."

"Can you...call him...please?"

A few minutes passed as FRIDAY made several attempts to reach Clint, giving Steve time to compose himself further; even though he had worked his way up to standing, the feeling of dizziness continued enough to require a grip on anything stationary while he walked back into the building.

"Steve, you okay?" Clint finally answered. "Did Tony wake up yet?"

"Where the hell are you? Why did you leave? You left me face down on the lawn, man."

"You're really heavy."

"Still, wouldn't kill ya to help." Steve slowly made his way to the living room and dropped limply onto one of the couches, grimacing at the sounds of splintering wood beneath him as he landed. If he had been feeling any better, he might have cared, but right now it was the last worry on his mind. "Where are you going, Barton?"

"I have to find her."

"And you didn't think to wait for us? Maybe grab anyone else to help?"

"No..." came the shy and quiet reply, "I...did not think of that. So, I guess I'll be right back."

"Strong decision, Barton," Steve scoffed. He closed the line and shifted his focus to Tony, using FRIDAY to help figure out where his teammate had ended up after they somehow got back home. He carefully made his way across the building and to the gym, where he found Tony lying flat on his back at the center of the mat. "Stark?"

"Hmm?"

"Tony, wake up."

"Don't wanna," he grumbled softly, "when I open my eyes the room moves."

"It gets better after a few minutes, trust me."

Tony took the risk and opened one eye, looking at Steve skeptically for a moment before opening the other very slowly. Just as he predicted, the room started to waver in his vision and he slammed them shut again, rolling over to his side when the same nausea that Steve had battled hit him hard. "Dammit, Rogers, I told you!"

"Clint is on his way back to pick us up. He left to go find (Y/N), and he needs our help," Steve replied, lowering himself to sit on the floor next to Tony. "You're gonna need to pull it together. It passes, just go slow." He pushed back to rest his unsteady body against the wall, pulling his knees up and resting his head heavily in his hands. He wasn't exactly lying to Tony about it passing, but if it was taking this long for him, he worried that he might just have to carry his friend everywhere for the next hour or more when he wasn't feeling all that great himself. The sounds of Tony's struggle caught his attention, only to look up and see that he was barely able to keep himself upright. Steve stood slowly and reluctantly, reaching down to grab Tony's arm and swinging him onto his back. Tony reflexively tightened his grip around the Captain's neck and wrapped his legs around his waist to keep a firm hold with his head pressed securely against him.

"Hold on, Stark," he said flatly, "and never tell anyone about this."

~~~

Something is on fire.

It wasn't until the realization broke through your subconscious mind that you began to cough, feeling the acrid burn of smoke in your chest and the sting of heat seeping through your closed lids. Both fear and curiosity forced your eyes to open, the gritty rub of pain nearly making you slam them shut again, but you forced yourself to look only to find yourself buried under the rubble of what used to be the secret Hydra operation that you had been forced to perform in for so many years. Anyone who had just lost their home might have felt sad or at least a hint of remorse, but at the sight of its destruction, you felt an unabashed joy that would have erupted into laughter if only you could breathe.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N) where are you?"

"I didn't see her, Barton," Steve's voice carried over the destruction, "are you sure she was here?"

"She has to be, Cap," Clint replied quietly, frantically throwing debris behind him as he continued his search. Splintered wood and burning tarps didn't slow him, and the pain he should have felt in his hands would have to wait. "(Y/N)!"

Your entire body hurt and you could feel a trickle of blood running down your cheek, a feeling of vertigo striking you back down when you tried to push from beneath the obstacle keeping you down. "I'm over here," you tried, but you couldn't carry enough volume for him to hear you.

"I told you we needed a better plan than to go storming in angry," Tony offered, helping to clear the area under the protection of his suit, "what if she didn't-"

"She did," Clint snapped, "she's here, and she's okay." His heart was pounding in his chest as his fear grew in the idea that one of these times he would flip over debris and find you dead beneath it, all because he had only one goal of completely destroying the place that had held you captive for so long.

"Yeah, that's what...I said..." you grunted, pushing the final beam away that held you in place. "You guys just rock at hide-and-seek."

"(Y/N)," Clint sighed in relief, rushing to your side and taking your arm to help you up, "I knew you were okay...you're okay, right?" In his elation he wrapped his arms around you for a tight hug, only to release you just as quickly when you pushed against him to resist.

A harsh cough broke into your reply, leaving you bent over to open your chest and taking breaths of air as if they were your first. He watched helplessly as you struggled to clear your lungs enough to talk again, looking at his two teammates with worry and the urge to grab you and run for help, but your words finally calmed him. "I will be. What happened?"

"I thought you might be able to tell us," Steve answered. "After we met you we woke up at the compound with the worst hangovers ever and no memory of how we got there."

"I woke up in my dressing room and you three were gone," you nodded in agreement, "they told me that I helped you get away, but I don't remember any of it. It had to be me though, somehow. There wasn't anyone else here who could've done it."

"Yeah, about that, sweetheart," Tony broke in, "please, don't ever sing to me again. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you have a lovely voice, but if I'm going to wake up feeling that hungover again, I'd at least like to remember the bad decisions that caused it. Otherwise, where's the fun in that? Well," he paused with a chuckle, "other than to find out that Cap gives the best piggyback rides."

"Stark, what did I say?" Steve hissed, turning to him with a murderous look in his eyes. "You were supposed to keep your big mouth shut about that."

"Don't worry, Cap," Clint added, "I really, really don't want to know. Really. Secret's safe."

"There's no secret," Steve argued, "he couldn't walk, and I was only trying to get moving-"

"La la la la, can't hear you," Clint hurried away with you quickly following, "what you two do in your own time..."

"Tony, tell him I was only trying to help because you couldn't walk."

"I don't recall saying that I couldn't walk, Cap," Tony laughed, "you just scooped me up into those big, strong arms and carried me away. It's a moment I'll never forget."

Steve whined quietly and huffed, resting his hands on his hips in frustration at the realization that he was talking in circles, and the battle would never be won in this group. He looked to you for a last resort of support, but found only a smile of amusement in his suffering.

"Great," he sighed with a groan, "that's not going away any time soon."