CHAPTER TWO

As he finished off his fifth slice of pizza, Clint heard a knock at his door. Lucky shot up, tail wagging incessantly. Clint pushed his chair out and went over to the door. Bobbi stood in the doorway as he opened it.

"Hey Clint," she chirped, glancing him up and down. Then her eyes lit up when she saw Lucky push his way past the man to get to her. She bent down. "Hey Lucky!"

Clint rolled his eyes and stood aside to let her enter. "I was surprised you were in the area."

"Fury has me between jobs," replied Bobbi simply as she stepped into his apartment. She took off her white coat and hung it beside the door. Somehow her outfit of a blue shirt and white jeans made her seem even taller than she already naturally stood. Her blonde hair went to her chest in waves. "For awhile he had me going after missing chitauri artefacts." She turned to him as he walked back over to the open pizza box. "What about you? What's your mission?"

"Remember that girl Coulson was watching for years? The 0-8-4?" He folded the pizza box in half and stuffed it in the overflowing trash can. "Fury wants the loose ends tied up."

"You're going after the sorceress?" Bobbi watched him in careful surprise. "After Loki-"

"I'm fine," he insisted too quickly, spinning a purple pencil around in his fingers. But in a lapse of concentration, it flew from his fingers and fell to the floor. "I don't need you to argue with me more than Fury already has, Bobbi."

She shook her head. "I won't. We've spent enough time arguing." But Bobbi did reach down and pick up the purple pencil for him. "I won't shy away from calling you stupid, though."

"Hey!" Clint rolled his eyes.

Bobbi shook her head. "Why isn't Natasha going with you?"

"I work better alone on this type of job," argued Clint immediately. "This is going to take long hours of staking out DC. I don't need the risk of a partner tipping off the target."

She hummed in fake acceptance of his explanation. "So it isn't because you don't want to put up a front again."

"Bobbi you're a biologist not a psychologist. I get enough from Shield's doctors already." Standing up from the table, Clint grabbed an arrow from his open quiver on the nearby white couch and began to spin it. He watched grey clouds hinder the sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows at the side of his penthouse apartment. "I can handle magic. I've done the rodeo with it already. If anything, I'm more ready than anyone else to handle this target."

"It took me years to get over my last big job," Bobbi reminded him, sitting on the arm of the couch near Clint. "It's only been six months, Clint. And you lost someone in this fight, too."

"Oh please," Clint muttered, "you can drop the charade, Bobbi. I know Coulson's alive."

She stuttered. "What?"

"I know he's alive. I know you're going to start working with him soon, too," Clint said, turning to her. "Fury didn't have security put in firewalls quick enough to keep Natasha and me out of Coulson's resurrection files. We know he's back."

"Does Fury know that you know?"

Clint shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on what Nat told him today."

She raised an eyebrow and huffed. When Lucky came and nuzzled her hand, she gave a soft smile. "Well then."

"I'm going to bring this woman in one way or another," he muttered to himself.

Bobbi smirked. "Try not to turn her into too much of a pincushion."

Clint rolled his eyes and turned to face her. "Please, Bob. I'm a professional."

"A professional at making messes, maybe," countered the woman quickly.

"You're little better off."

They settled into a comfortable quiet. Bobbi got up from her spot on the arm of the couch and fed Lucky his food. Clint, for his part, stayed staring out at the ever darkening clouds. He could feel the touch of Loki's hand on his shoulder, and the heat of Loki's breath against his neck. Clint closed his eyes.

"Do you want me to take the trash out, or are you going to do it?" Bobbi interrupted later. "I just didn't know since you're mister bigshot Avenger now, if you do such things."

"Nat would argue that I didn't do such things even before I became an Avenger," Clint chipped in, turning from the windows. He found Bobbi standing with her arms folded across her chest. "What?"

"This mission is a bad idea, Clint."

"What happened to not arguing with me against it."

Bobbi sighed. She began poking around his empty cabinets. "Do you have any coffee?"

"There's one k-cup left for the Keurig machine that Hill gave everyone for Christmas last year," Clint told her. "Try the fourth cabinet."

"And a mug?"

Clint frowned. "Try the dishwasher?"

"Is it clean?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"Well you never ran the dishwasher when we lived together," she reminded him quickly in defense. She opened the dishwasher and pulled out a black mug. As she got the Keurig working, she turned back to her ex. "This mission is a bad idea, Hawkeye."

"Now I know I'm in for a long argument," he muttered. "You called me Hawkeye."

Bobbi leaned against the countertop and folded her arms again. Lucky came and sat by her leg. Clint glared.

"What does the intel say about her using her powers?"

Getting up from the kitchen table, he retrieved a manila folder. Newspaper clippings, Shield reports, photographs, all spilled out from the sides. He laid it on the countertop across from Bobbi. "They seem to be triggered by instinct, at least to some degree. Agents who have been sent to test her indicate she's in moderate control, but not entirely."

"Could be dangerous."

"Every mission is dangerous."

Bobbi nodded, spinning around and grabbing her new mug of coffee. She took a sip. After a pause, she posed a different question. "How are the new Shield tech hearing aids holding up?"

Clint straightened up. "So far so good. They're completely waterproof which is useful."

"Apparently one of Coulson's team designed them."

"Who?"

"Agent Leopold Fitz."

Clint shrugged. "I've heard his name. Can't say I know his face."

Bobbi sighed. She watched Clint for awhile as he stared down at Lucky below him. With a glance at the clock, she nodded to herself ever so slightly. "When's your train down?"

"4:30."

"Better get going." The clock read 3:56.

Clint nodded. His stuff sat packed by the front door except for his arrow case and the intel folder. As he knelt down and gave Lucky a hug, Bobbi watched him with a smirk. He then rushed over to pack up his arrows. With the large metal case pushed into his duffle bag, he grabbed the file folder and put it in his black backpack.

"Thanks again, for watching the apartment."

"You owe me."

Clint let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. "I owe a lot of people." As he went out the door, he paused. "I forgot the-"

"Trash?" Bobbi laughed. "Go, Clint. I'll do it. Just like old times."

He nodded. Taking the elevator down to street level, Clint headed to the Amtrak station near his apartment. He already missed Lucky not ten feet from his door, but he had a mission. He couldn't bring his dog on this one.

All he had with him were two duffle bags and a backpack. One duffle bag for clothes and one for supplies, including weapons. He would keep that with him on the train. He hoped that by taking the evening train it would be somewhat empty.

It was.

He took his seat in business class and propped his feet up. A quick, disapproving glance from the train worker nearest him deterred his enthusiasm briefly. He removed his feet from the seat in front of him.

The trip to DC would take about four hours. Clint tried to spend his time reviewing what information they had on Paige Wilson. There wasn't much. No blood samples had been collected yet, so they couldn't identify her as human or nonhuman. He wanted to see her in action before making the decision one way or the other himself. Pictures meant nothing.

Suddenly his cellphone buzzed. Steve Rogers. "Heard you're coming in to DC tonight?"

Clint picked it up and typed back. "Yeah. I've got a mission down there."

He set the phone back down and turned to the papers in front of him. Flipping through some stills of her using her magic, he tried to concentrate entirely on the mission. Only the mission.

Buzz. Clint checked his texts. It was Steve again. "What time are you getting in?"

"Late." He replied back. "I'm staying in a furnished apartment Fury keeps in your complex. If you've got food I'll swing by your place when I arrive."

It didn't take long for him to reply. "Sounds good. Tony keeps begging me to watch a show called Firefly. Do you know what it is?"

Clint laughed to himself, smiling down at his phone. This time he picked the phone up completely, turning his attention from the mission reports. "Yeah, I do. It's a science fiction show. It's a good one. I've got the whole series on my phone. We can stream it." He set the phone back down and turned his attention, again, to the intel.

One of the woman's more dangerous abilities was her ability to use darkness to create illusions. It reminded Clint too much of Loki's mirror and illusion tricks for his liking. Still, he reminded himself that she was no Loki. There was no reason to believe she was a true hostile. None of her crimes had been violent thus far. If he had to guess, she'd had a rough time in the foster system and gotten out without support... something he knew all too well.

Buzz. Steve again.

"Great! See you later."