CHAPTER SEVEN

Clint managed to grab an hour of sleep after calling Fury letting him know that he'd successfully made contact with Paige. Fury wanted her brought to the Triskelion the next day to meet with him. With a sigh, he pulled on a white tee-shirt and grabbed his black sweatshirt by the door.

He grabbed a sandwich from the Subway quietly before rejoining Steve and Paige in the other apartment. All he wanted was to see Lucky. As much as he was glad to have gotten back into missions, Clint wanted to head back to his home. He wanted everything behind him.

Steve opened the door to the apartment a minute after Clint knocked. He nodded to him quietly, letting the archer enter the room. "Any news on what to do with Paige?"

Clint nodded back at him, walking into the living area where Paige sat playing on her cellphone. When she saw Clint, she put the phone down. She waited expectantly.

"Nick Fury wants you to come with us to the Triskelion tomorrow. That's the big building on the Theodore Roosevelt Island." Clint walked over to the far side of the couch and sat on a separate arm chair nearer to the TV. After turning it on, he looked back over at Paige. "He's the Director of Shield and I report directly to him. He'll give you some idea of what Shield can offer you."

Paige hummed to herself. "Fair enough. I'll see what he has to say. After four years living on the streets and out of stolen cars I was starting to miss good amenities anyways. And you guys get paid, right?"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, we do. But we also do good work, which you could probably help with."

"You'd need real training first. You're powerful with the magic stuff, but your hand-to-hand needs work." Clint looked her over. "Can you shoot a gun?"

Paige frowned in confusion. "What's the point? I can conjure fire just by thinking about it."

"You never know. Most powers can be neutralized one way or another." Clint shrugged, flipping through channels. He ended up watching a soccer match. As he started watching the game, turned back to Paige. "I assume you'd rather sleep in a safe apartment building than the streets tonight? The safehouse downstairs has an extra bedroom you're welcome to."

"Plus he provides coffee," Steve joked as he sat down next to Paige on the couch to watch the game. "If he can spare any."

Clint grinned. "That's a big if."

"And I doubt he has cream or sugar," added Steve quickly. He picked up a sketch pad from the side table to his left and began sketching something.

Clint looked at him in disgust. "Why would anyone put that crap in coffee? It's already perfect as it is."

Laughter erupted from Paige. "I saw you drinking it black earlier."

"Yeah! It's the only way," he insisted.

"I like cream and sugar," she shrugged in response. Then she turned back to her phone. "Now, thanks to your stupid stunt yesterday I need to find all new music."

Clint smirked to himself. He took out his own phone. Scrolling through his text messages, and clicked on the fifth contact down in his phone. Tony Stark. "Hey man, I've got a question."

Marked as Read. Clint watched and waited for Tony's response. "What do you need, Legolas." A moment passed and another text came through. "By the way, Pepper won't stop bugging me to ask you what paint color you want for your suite in the Tower."

"Cmon Tony, you should know by now." Clint smirked to himself as he typed.

"Grey? And what shade of purple for the decor?" A second buzz. "When you coming over next anyway? You're like right down the street, man."

Clint snorted and typed back. "I am an agent, Tony. I have a job."

"Shocker." The sarcasm came through just fine. "Aren't you on bedrest or something?"

"I'm in DC on mission. Which is why I texted." Clint glanced up from his phone for a moment as Manchester United scored a goal. He smiled and pumped his fist. Turning back to the phone, he continued. "Do you want to support a good cause."

"Why does this worry me, Barton. Is the good cause getting you a new Xbox?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Clint rolled his eyes. "The mission was to bring in a target, and I sort of blew up the target's phone. So she lost her music. Fury will reimburse you I'm sure. But I'm not giving her my credit card. That's for Shield only."

"I gotcha. Super secret spy stuff."

Clint shook his head ever so slightly with a smug smile. "Yeah. Exactly. Which, remember, you aren't a part of."

"And yet here you are begging for money."

Clint huffed. "Tony you son of a-"

"Who are you texting?" Steve asked him in amusement. "Your reactions are priceless."

He had glanced over to Clint's phone and looked at him in curiosity. While the game still played on the TV, clearly no one was watching it. Paige had her earbuds in, Steve had his drawings, and Clint had Tony.

Looking over Paige to Steve, Clint rolled his eyes. "Who do you think. He's rich, and has an ego about as big as his profit margins-"

"Ah."

Looking back down at his unfinished text, Clint erased the insult. "Listen. I've got a girl here, she's 21, has no family, kills gangs for a living, but just got all her music taken away. Send me a couple hundred and I'll get Fury to reimburse you."

Marked as read. Tony didn't respond right away, but when he did, it was with a link to collect three hundred dollars. "Here. You heartless bastard, you took away her music."

Clint sighed and threw his head back dramatically. He turned to Steve. "One of these days I am going to turn Tony into a pincushion."

"Just don't do it in my apartment. And make sure Pepper doesn't have to pick up the pieces," he said, laughing. "She's gone through too much with him already."

"Yeah especially after that whole episode with the fire guys," Clint muttered. He then turned back to his texts. "Thanks, rich guy."

"Just make sure you come over soon. Don't want Pepper thinking you're avoiding her!"

"Pepper is the best part of your building, Tony. She's the only reason you're manageable."

"I'm manageable? What an insult. Guess I have to step up my game."

"Good night Tony."

"You know we have the best whiskey and vodka around."

"GOODNIGHT TONY."

Clint turned to Paige. He said her name, but she was fully tuned into her music, and her eyes were closed. He spoke louder. Still no response. Finally he touched her on the shoulder.

Paige's eyes shot open and she turned, grabbing Clint's arm and somehow freezing it. He shouted in pain. "Ow!"

"Ah sorry-" She let go instantly and winced as they all looked at the reddening, rough skin patch now on Clint's lower arm in the shape of a hand. "I didn't mean to do that."

Steve grabbed a baggie and placed ice inside as Clint examined the burn. It wasn't particularly bad; it would only need antibiotic creams and ice to keep the pain down. But he looked at it more in concern. It had hurt like hell. "Well."

"Hey I'm sorry. Really," Paige apologized, her eyes nearly watering in sincerity. "Sometimes I can't control it. Often, actually. It's like it protects me without me meaning to."

"It?"

Paige hesitated. "The magic."

Steve came back over from the kitchen. He circled around to the back of the couch, leaving Clint and Paige looking at the burn between the couch and the TV. "Here." He handed the ice bag to Clint.

"Thanks," replied Clint with a nod to his fellow Avenger. Then he turned back to Paige. "Is it sentient?"

"I don't know," Paige admitted, sitting back down. She covered her face for a moment. "I don't know. It protects me when I need protecting. Keeps me alive. And it has...moods."

Clint shared a quick glance with Steve as he applied the bag of ice to his arm. "Sound like anyone you know?"

"Banner." Steve sighed. Then he looked at the clock. 11:35. "You two should head to bed. Fury's going to want to meet her as soon as possible tomorrow."

Clint agreed, "Come on. My apartment's downstairs. It's a safehouse, probably even safer than this one despite not having Cap." As he opened the door to the hall, he looked back at Steve. "You heading into the Triskelion tomorrow too?"

"Yeah. Rumlow and I train STRIKE team in the mid morning now." He walked over to the door. "If you're going in until then, you guys can join me for a run around the Mall."

Clint chuckled. "More like watch you run, right?" The other man only shrugged with a smirk, causing Clint to shake his head. "No, I'm going to take Paige in bright and early."

"I don't do bright and early," muttered Paige as she followed out the door. "This deal is getting worse by the minute."

The went down the flight of stairs to the second floor. Using his key, Clint opened the safehouse door. He pushed it open to let Paige in. "Welcome to my fantastic apartment."

Paige looked around. "Interesting."

"There's two bedrooms. Take the one in here." He stopped by a door near the entrance and opened it for her. "Coffee's on at six. If you want cream and sugar it'll be up to you to dig around. We leave at 6:30."

"Geez, you weren't kidding about early." She grumbled something that Clint couldn't catch as she flipped on her bedroom light. It wasn't large, but she didn't mind. She was getting to sleep on a real bed for the first time in over a year."

Clint poked his head in. "Shower's down the hall. Shield stocks it well. Enjoy, Pea."

"Thanks, Carnie."

With a small shake of his head, Clint made his way to his own room. His feet dragged on the ground. As soon as he shut the door, not even bothering to turn on the light, he slid down the door and put his head in his hands, bringing his knees close to his chest. His heart rate continued to increase, his head spun. Thank god he was a decent actor after years of being a spy.

"What did it show you, Agent Barton?"

"My next target."

He clutched his chest, ignoring the flaring pain from his arm. Heat radiated from the burn as the bag of ice slipped to the ground. Damn magic. He started counting backwards.

One hundred.

Ninety-nine.

Ninety-eight.

Ninety-seven.

His heart still pounded in his body. He could feel heat rising to his ears. He could hear the screams. He could see the bodies.

Sixty-four.

Sixty three.

Ever so slightly, he counted his pulse slowing. With a sigh of relief he started breathing again, realizing he'd been holding his breath. Clint glanced down at the burn on his arm and bit his lip. He looked up and let his head hit the door quietly.

Closing his eyes, he muttered to himself. "Damn it, Barton."