CHAPTER EIGHT

When his alarm sounded at 5:45 am the next morning, Clint roused from sleep still against the door. He groaned. His neck hurt, his head hurt. His arm most definitely hurt. Glancing down at the burn, he frowned. He'd get a Shield doctor to look at it.

After a quick shower, he changed into his favorite shirt: Black with a down pointing purple arrow. On top went his black leather jacket. He stared in the mirror. His eyes screamed of exhaustion. But at least he'd almost finished his mission.

Clint walked out into the apartment main area and went straight to the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and found a keurig cup of mocha for Paige. He started it just as Paige emerged from her room, wearing the same thing as the day before; a white tank top that looked surprisingly clean, a ripped up jean jacket, black pants and black tennis shoes, plus her ever present grey hat. Clint realized as much as she wanted music, clothes should probably be their first priority for her.

"It's six and there's no coffee," Paige muttered as he slid into a seat at the nearby table. Despite her eagerness for the drink, she looked extremely well rested.

Clint rolled his eyes from the kitchen. "It's coming."

When it finished up a few minutes later, Clint handed her the mug with the mocha in it. She thanked him and took a drink while he grabbed the coffee pot for himself. The amusement on her face didn't escape Clint as he drank straight from it.

"Not like anyone else is having it," he reminded her.

After ten minutes of coffee enjoyment, Clint insisted they get going. He checked his phone as they pulled on their coats and Clint stuffed his gun in his pocket. Grabbing his case with his bow, arrows, and intel, he led them down to the first floor.

"Car should be outside. Black, with the Shield logo on the front doors." He pushed the doors open into the street. Already traffic had started clogging up the roads and it hadn't even struck 6:30. "C'mon."

Paige hurried out after him, wrapping herself in one of Clint's extra jackets since her jean jacket was full of holes. Clint opened the back door of the waiting Shield vehicle. He gestured for her to get in and scoot across. She did so.

Clint didn't even need to tell the driver where to take them. As soon as both passengers had settled and the door closed, the man dressed in a nice black suit nodded to Clint through the mirror and took off. With the morning commuter traffic backing things up, the drive took about twenty minutes. Clint glanced over at Paige as they crossed the bridge to the Triskelion.

"That's big," she muttered quietly.

Clint smirked, chuckling. "Welcome to the Shield Headquarters. Or at least the one that is public knowledge."

She glanced over at him, intrigued. "There are others then?"

"Can't tell you that. Super secret spy stuff, as a friend called it." He pointed to the newly fitted Shield logo on the Triskelion. It had gone up after the public announcement of Shield following the Battle of New York. "Nick Fury, the Director of Shield, keeps his office here."

With a nod, Paige watched out the front window as best she could while they approached. Soon they entered the base and the driver dropped them off at the main entrance above the parking garage. Clint got out first and stepped aside for Paige.

To both their surprise, Natasha Romanoff greeted them next to the doors. She wore black jeans, a red blouse, and a black leather jacket. She smirked at Clint who stood gaping at her. "Cat got your tongue, Clint?" She then turned to Paige. "So you're Paige Wilson. I'm Natasha Romanoff."

Clint rolled his eyes and walked over to Natasha. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I wanted to see the woman for myself," replied Natasha with a shrug of nonchalance. "Fury called me down when he got word that you'd found her."

He shook his head. Turning back to Paige, he gestured to Natasha. "The Black Widow."

Paige's eyes lit up in recognition. A smile crept onto her face. "Pleasure to meet you. The news outlets didn't have your name to release to the public. But I always hoped I'd get to thank you."

"For?"

"Being the only woman on the Avengers, at least that the public knows about." Paige walked over to her and shrugged, folding her arms across her chest. "It's just cool."

Natasha gave a small smile and then rounded on Clint. "I like her."

"I had a sneaking suspicion that you would."

She smirked and gestured for Paige to follow them. Clint opened the glass doors with a frosted Shield logo. Nat led, Paige going after her, and Clint bringing up the rear. As they stepped into the massive hall that was the bottom floor, Paige stopped.

"Wow," she murmured. A hundred different well dressed men and women walked to and fro, going up and down escalators and stairs, or taking side passages further into the base. A huge Shield eagle symbol stood made of metal in the very center. "You know, for being a spy organization that values its secrecy, this is rather flashy." She shot Clint a smirk. "Or is there some super secret spy reason for the logos everywhere?"

Natasha smirked but kept walking as Clint folded his arms across his chest and responded. "Well, Pea, clearly the powers that be don't value secrecy as much as the agents. Keep walking."

They took the escalator closest to them, flanking a massive staircase. It brought them to a second floor off the grand entrance. Clint and Natasha led Paige to the left down a corridor filled with elevators. Natasha pressed the 'up' button.

"So, who am I off to see?" Paige asked, suddenly nervous. It occured to her that if she wanted to leave and not join this organization, it would take a lot of bloodshed. She didn't mind killing evil people, in fact, if she admitted it herself, she quite enjoyed it. Or the magic did. But these weren't bad people. At least not the ones she had met so far. "This, Director?"

"Director Nicholas J. Fury," explained Natasha as they walked into the newly arrived elevator. When the doors closed, she continued. "He's the director, reporting to the Council. But for all intents and purposes, he's the highest ranking agent in the organization."

Paige nodded. She stood quietly, trying to calm her nerves. The more anxiety she experienced, the less control she had over her magic. It always tried to protect her, which meant more often than not it lashed out. She had trained herself well over the years to control the fear, but this was more than she had experienced in many years.

"You good?" Clint asked as the elevator continued up. He could see her breathing growing irregular.

"I'm fine, Carnie," she bit back.

As Clint folded his arms, Natasha's eyes sparkled with mirth. She turned to Clint and signed "carnie?" in ASL. He rolled his eyes and didn't bother responding. As the elevator opened, they walked out into a hallway on the outside of the building. One wall, made of windows, provided a beautiful view of Washington, D.C., the Potomac River, and the John F. Kennedy Center across it. Natasha led the way again.

Frosted panes of glass lined the opposite side of the hallway. Soon they came upon a clear glass door. Paige glanced inside and saw a tall man with an eyepatch sitting behind a desk. Across from him, a woman with shoulder length hair sat with her back to the door. Two cups of coffee sat on the desk.

Natasha opened the door. She led them in. Paige paused in her step as the two at the desk turned in their direction. But Clint poked her to keep moving. Both people stood from the desk and walked to meet them.

"Director Fury, Agent Hill," Clint said with a nod. "This is Paige Wilson. Paige, these are Shield's director and assistant director."

She made no response. Paige suddenly felt like a cornered animal and could feel the magic in her body itching to escape. But Fury looked her up and down and nodded. "So you're the one Phil Coulson used to track. I'm surprised you came in without a fight."

"I got tired of not having regular access to showers and beds," she muttered in response.

Maria Hill nodded. She looked to all of them. "Coffee?"

Clint grinned. "Always."

Natasha also asked for some, but Paige shook her head. She didn't need more stimulation than the adrenaline pulsing through her already offered. Maria pressed a button on Fury's desk and called an intern to bring them the drinks.

"Alright, Paige. Let's get straight to business." Fury gestured for her to sit in Maria Hill's former chair. He took his own. "What exactly are your powers?"

As she settled into the chair, Paige kept her arms and legs folded in defense. She glanced around her at the glass window walls and the couch and chairs that sat in the left corner of the room. She didn't miss Clint and Natasha taking up stances behind her chair, and Maria Hill standing next to Fury. Not much of a chance to escape if she needed to.

"I guess I would call it magic," she began slowly. "But it's more than elemental spells and stuff. It's a power, and it protects me when I need protecting. I don't even think about it and it does stuff."

Maria Hill furrowed her eyebrows. "You talk about it like it's sentient?"

"Maybe it is? I don't know. It seems hell bent on making sure I stay alive."

Clint stepped forward and took off his leather jacket. He showed them the red, peeling ice burn on his arm. "She did this."

"By accident!" she insisted in her own defense. She sat up taller. "He surprised me. The magic thought I was in trouble."

Clint shrugged. "Just showing them what you can do, especially if caught unawares."

Fury leaned back in his chair. As he went to speak, a young man in a suit knocked and entered the room carrying four cups of black coffee. He brought it over to the desk, set it down, and promptly left the room. Neither Clint nor Maria wasted no time in grabbing one. The other two took theirs more slowly, waiting until the vultures had gotten their own.

Finally Fury spoke again. "Are you human?"

"That I don't know."

"Anything else besides the magic that's special about you? Our reports indicate that you're stronger and less likely to injure than a normal human of your size," he mused.

Paige nodded, sitting up straight again. "That's true. I'm fairly strong, and it seems to be hard to pierce my skin."

Maria frowned. She turned to the other three agents. "Asgardian, maybe?"

"Maybe," agreed Fury. He turned to Clint and Natasha. "Any word on Thor's whereabouts?"

They told him that Thor hadn't been seen since the Avengers had first formed. Fury frowned. "We have Thor's genetic profile, yes?" He looked over at Hill.

She nodded. "It's standard procedure." Grabbing a tablet from the desk, she tapped a few panels. "Yes, sir. We've got it. Would you like us to crossmatch Paige with Thor?"

"Yes." Fury turned to Paige. "There should be basic Asgardian genetic markers. We'll need to take some blood and skin samples."

"But it'll confirm if I'm an alien?"

Fury nodded affirmatively. "At least if you're Asgardian." He looked at Clint and Natasha. "Escort her to the medical wing. That is, if she's willing to go?"

Paige knew it wasn't a suggestion, but she appreciated the gesture. "Of course."

With that, Clint and Natasha led her out of the office room. They both held their coffees as they walked back through the hallway to the elevators. But instead of taking them down, they crossed through corridor with windows on all sides but the bridge itself that crossed into one of the other two sections of the tall tower part of the Triskelion. Once across the bridge, They took the first elevator down.

It kept going down even when it reached the ground level. Three more levels passed until it opened into a hallway nearly identical to the one above. Clint led the way this time. The hallway ended soon in a large, open space almost as big as the entrance hall on the ground level. Paige looked around in awe. A desk area like an information center stood in the very middle. Clint walked them past it to the far wall where large, sliding double doors made of glass every twenty feet led to further areas of the base. They went to one with a sign labeled "Laboratories."

Paige didn't know what to think as they went into the hallway. On the one hand, she felt excited that soon she would hopefully know what she was. But on the other, she didn't look forward to being poked and prodded with needles.