If there was one great thing about being in SHIELD, it was the time Evelyn could spend with her father. She missed him. If she was honest, she didn't realize just how much she missed him until she started working with him. This morning, they met for coffee and planned their annual Memorial Day screening of "The Howling Commandos."

Once they walked back to work together he led their workout routine. He was teaching her how to throw a proper punch in the workout room. It was something he wanted to do for a long time and now he finally had a reason to sit down and work with her. They set up a punching bag and Phil guided her through the lesson.

"Not bad," smiled Phil as Evelyn stepped back from the bag after a set, "Remember to turn your shoulders back and use your core for extra power in your swing."

"I don't think I need extra power," chuckled Evelyn as she checked the tape on her hands for wear, "I can already punch someone through a wall without really trying."

"True," conceded Phil, "But you should use good technique. It will keep you from hurting yourself. Also you never know when you need all your strength."

"Even if I knock the bag off the hook?" she smiled.

"Yes. We can fix that," he put a fond hand on her shoulder, "Don't hold back, Evey. If you can take a guy out with one punch, do it. Take the shot."

He directed her shoulders back and Evelyn followed the motion. All at once, she snapped her shoulders forward. Her fist shot forward like a cobra striking. Flesh connected with the tough canvas. The bag swung violently, the metal hook groaning under the strain. Her other fist connected and the bag flew off the hook, arcing through the air, and landing with a loud thud on the ground.

"Good job," congratulated Phil, "That was a nice hit!"

"I like this more than firearms," admitted Evelyn with a wide smile.

Phil laughed, "You are my daughter."

Evelyn splashed water from her plastic squeeze water bottle on her red neck. It evaporated almost instantly. "Did grandpa teach you?"

Phil paused. He looked at his hands and unwrapped the tape. "A bit. He taught me what I needed to get by. I learned more in the army and from Nick."

It was a sensitive subject. It was rare for Phil to speak in any depth about his father or any members of the family. The few times he did speak were rare gems. Evelyn cherished every scrap she could find. Maybe these people weren't blood related, but they were all she had insofar as family was concerned.

"I wish I could've met him."

Phil smiled softly, a bit sad around the edges, "I wish you could too, sweetie."

Evelyn went to retrieve the punching bag and hang it back up on the ceiling. So then the two of them started practicing once again.

"I thought you had to get back to school," said Phil, glancing at the clock.

"I thought I would stay over the weekend," explained Evelyn, unwrapping the athletic tape from her hands. "I want to get some work done in the lab before I present it to the Science Board on Monday."

"So, what are your plans for the evening?" asked Phil, "Hanging out in the lab?"

"No," she chuckled, "I have plans. Natasha invited me and Clint over to her place. So we're going to go and… maybe play some board games. Something."

Natasha didn't invite people to her home. Evelyn always assumed it was a spy thing. Her private life was just that. Private. To be invited in was a privilege. There was an implicit promise to keep this between them. Not that it would be hard. The place was far enough off the beaten path that Evelyn wasn't sure she could find it again.

She lived in a tiny studio apartment on the first floor of a larger brick building on the way out of town. It was strange because the front entrance didn't face the street. It was a plain metal door covered with olive green paint in a narrow alley between buildings, opposite a dumpster.

It did not escape her notice that the front door held an impressive collection of locks. In addition to the dinky little lock in the door, Natasha had installed two extra deadbolts and a thick brass chain lock. Looking around, Evelyn could see similar locks on the windows. A thick wooden dowel was also shoved into to window track to jimmy them closed. The flowerpots on the windowsill seemed to serve a dual purpose. Not only did they promote a charming, homely feel to the apartment and discouraged peeping toms, it also served as a low-tech alarm system. It seemed exceptionally paranoid. The neighborhood was not Manhattan elite but it wasn't exceptionally bad. Evelyn passed it off as typical spy behavior.

Seeing the inside of the apartment confirmed exactly what she expected. The blocky brick building was originally a warehouse or a parking garage or some other sort of large, spacious building and it was segmented into apartments later. The wall near the kitchen was clean white drywall and plaster, slightly newer work than the rest of the walls. The work seemed well done. Everything was sturdy and stable. But it was still a patchwork job and the stitches showed.

The apartment consisted of two rooms and a bathroom. The first room was a mashup of kitchen and living room. Instead of a dining table, there was a large glass topped coffee table. A bamboo screen separated this first space from the bedroom space. Evelyn couldn't see into that room from the living room. She opted not to pry.

Natasha kept things neat. Everything was clean, save for a fluff of errant dust here or there. The furniture was secondhand but in good condition. Perhaps the decor was a bit spartan but she didn't spend too much time here to begin with.

"I can make something here or we can order something in," offered Natasha. "Whatever you two decide."

"How 'bout I cook something?" offered Clint.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You? Cook?"

"I've learned or else I was going to eat Cheerios for every meal," he insisted. "So, you two get to sit back and talk girl things or whatever while I make dinner."

Evelyn didn't know how to talk about 'girl things' with Natasha. She just didn't talk about 'girl things.' Not to her, at least. What even were 'girl things?"

"You've been away," noted Evelyn, settling on that as a conversation starter.

"I took some R and R," replied Natasha, "Went to Russia."

"Going home?"

"Sort of. I was looking for a few things," Natasha sighed, "I wanted to find where my parents were buried."

The words drained the air from the room. Natasha never talked about her past at all. Clint told her more about Natasha's past than Natasha told her about Natasha's past. Evelyn was only trying to be conversational but all of a sudden they were tumbling into pretty dark territory. She fumbled for a second before finding a way to continue the conversation.

"Did you… find anything of note?"

Natasha was quiet for a second. When she spoke, her voice was soft. It seemed like she was trying to keep her emotions in check. For once in her life, she seemed to be having a hard time avoiding bursting into tears. She scrunched up her eyes to keep them from getting too misty.

"There was a vacant lot surrounded by a chain link fence. It was empty and full of weeds. The lot backed up to a burned-out concrete building. Somewhere in that area, my mother is buried." She paused, looking down at her hands for a second before continuing. "I don't know where my father is. He's probably buried in some other unmarked grave somewhere."

The room was quiet, save for the rumble of traffic outside and Clint making noise in the kitchen. Evelyn wasn't sure if he was listening in but part of her hoped he would chime in and ease the tension. No such lifeline existed so Evelyn had to figure her way forward.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in response, "That's… hard."

"It is," said Natasha, her voice stabilizing. "But, I knew you would understand."

Evelyn swallowed a lump in her throat. "I guess I do. I understand why you would want closure. And… it's good you found that."

"It's bittersweet," she admitted, "I thought I might feel better afterward. I don't know if I do. Some answers are there, but not enough. There will never be enough."

Evelyn never really thought about it. She never even thought about how she would feel if she found her parents, or even a tiny scrap of information regarding them. Would it be enough? Would it ever be enough? Could she live with the lingering mystery? She thought she probably knew the answer but it was hard to say it. Fortunately, she couldn't dwell on it for long. Dinner was ready.

Clint's cooking left much to be desired. The pasta was overcooked and mushy. Obviously, the sauce came out of a jar and he did little to doctor it up save for a dusting of parmesan cheese. But he looked so proud of himself when he presented the plates. It made it difficult to do anything other than eat it and smile. To his credit, it wasn't horrible. But Evelyn made a mental note to offer to help next time he tried cooking.

Dinner ran late. They got wrapped up in conversation over dinner. Clint wanted to know more about Natasha's trip to Russia. She was reluctant to say much more than what she already said to Evelyn. Both of them wanted to know more about the projects Evelyn was working on in the science department. She was all too happy to talk about her electronics class and the medical gloves she was tinkering with. By the time the conversation wrapped up, it was late. The streets were dark. The idea of driving home did not really strike Evelyn's fancy.

She knew Clint crashed here often. He mentioned that once or twice. The pullout couch was practically his permanent bed. He kept a spare toothbrush in her bathroom and there were a few articles of his clothing in her closet. The sentiment was reciprocated in his apartment.

"My couch is open. You and Clint can rock-paper-scissors for it."

Clint shook his head, "Nah. Evey can take the couch. I'm a gentleman."

His phone rang and it took Evelyn a few seconds to recognize the tune.

"Is that Weird Al?"

"Shut up," he snapped, "I gotta take this one."

He stepped out of the living room toward Natasha's room so he could have some measure of privacy.

"Yeah?" He paced around the room as someone spoke on the phone with him. "That's close. Yeah, just like I told you. I know. I know. Wait. Tonight? Really? How many? That's more than we counted last time. Yeah, I'm with both of them."

Evelyn and Natasha both perked up upon hearing themselves mentioned in conversation. Clint met their eyes and spun his finger in a gesture to Natasha. She stood and went back toward the bedroom.

"I can brief them," he said, "When are we going to make our move? Right. Bye."

Natasha poked her head out from the other room, "Well?"

"We're not moving out until tomorrow."

"Way to make me hurry for nothing."

Clint smiled, "Sorry. Wasn't sure what the orders were going to be."

"What are our orders?" asked Evelyn nervously.

"They'll be a briefing tomorrow," said Clint but Natasha interjected before he could say anything else.

"Just tell her, Clint," said Natasha, "She's an agent now, so she ought to know what we're working on."

Evelyn's eyes flicked from Clint staring at his phone to Natasha leaning against the doorframe and back again. "Okay, I'll bite. What's up?"

Clint didn't say anything right away so Natasha decided to interject, "Clint is busting an international crime ring based out of the circus he used to work at."

Clint's face didn't seem pleased with his accomplishment. He looked like he was going to throw up right there in the middle of the floor. Finally he wrinkled his nose and tucked his phone back into his pocket. He slouched onto the sofa and began to explain.

According to the very brief summary Nat exposited in her kitchen, the entire investigation began with an anonymous tip. The call came in from the Fort Worth area but there was little more to be discerned from the phone number. It came from a payphone and there were no security cameras nearby to reveal who made the call. It was a true mystery. But SHIELD decided to put some feelers out. Since Clint was a former employee, he was put on the case.

The whole thing smelled a little fishy to Evelyn. SHIELD mostly dealt with large-scale international threats. A circus with financial problems seemed way out of their jurisdiction. This should be done by the IRS or maybe the FBI. There was more to the story than just that tip-off and Evelyn knew it. Weather she would ever be privy to those details was another matter entirely.

It occurred to Evelyn, as she considered the case, that this was her first real mission as a fully fledged, adult agent. Sure, she had done some things back in high school. She was a kid then so she didn't think it actually counted. In a weird way, that was exciting and she found herself slightly giddy as she walked to work the next morning and prepared for the mission.

Since she had some extra time, she decided to drop by and see her father. Her requisitions appointment was still about an hour away, so there was plenty of time for small talk. Or at least she would. But as she drew near his office, the door was slightly open and she could hear multiple voices coming from the office. One of them was definitely Clint's voice.

"Barney got a promotion and started doing accounting work for the circus," explained Clint, "So, I guess if there is something screwy going on, he would at least see it pass over his desk. Maybe he would be part of the cover-up. I don't know."

"Our surveillance teams have lost track of him somewhere around Little Rock," Phil informed him, "But it could be that he was moved to another location for safekeeping. Do you think if we found him, he would talk?"

"It's been so long since we've been in touch," said Clint, "The Barney I knew growing up wouldn't have stood for this kind of crap. But… people change. And not always for the better. I'd say yes. But, I'm only maybe sixty percent confident."

"That's still more confident than not," said Phil, "If he is willing to talk, we will bring him in. Maybe we can work together. If not, then, we might have no choice but to prosecute and see if we can force them to plea bargain for testimony."

There was a long break in conversation. Evelyn reached toward the doorknob to push it open but froze when she heard her father's voice again.

"You don't seem happy, Clint."

"S'fine," he muttered. It didn't sound fine.

Phil spoke up, his voice gentle, "Talk to me."

"This is harder than I thought it would be," blurted Clint, "I mean, how do I turn against my own brother, the guy who basically raised me?"

Phil was silent for a second before taking a deep breath and speaking up. "It wouldn't be the first time family and work collided."

"What if I have to… find Barney and…"

"Are you an agent or aren't you?" asked Phil.

Clint sighed, "I am. But I didn't expect it to be this hard."

Evelyn didn't realize she was leaning forward against the door until the door frame squeaked loudly, alerting them to their presence. Evelyn stepped backward, trying to pretend like she hadn't been eavesdropping.

"We'll talk about this some other time," assured Phil quickly. His footsteps hurried toward the door.

Evelyn opened the door and walked in to preemptively cut off the potential interrogation, "Hi, Dad… Clint. What's up?"

Her father smiled at her as she walked in but Clint seemed a bit green around the gills. "Hi, Sweetie! How are you doing?"

"Well, I have a little bit of time before I was supposed to check in with Clint for the mission, so I thought I would drop by real quick," she said, looking over to Clint and back at her father, "I didn't expect Clint to be here."

"We were actually just discussing the mission a bit," said Phil, taking a glance over his shoulder. Clint still looked a bit sick. "I think you two have a lot to talk about, actually. Honey, I have to go to a meeting with Nick. How about you two go and get a bite to eat? I'll meet up afterward and talk before your mission. Sound good?"

"Sounds good to me," smiled Evelyn, but she was intensely curious about what had them both on edge.

Phil took the elevator up to the administration floor. Evelyn and Clint took the other elevator down to the cafeteria on the ground floor. Clint seemed a bit antsy, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He normally had no trouble sitting still, settled in the shadows in a sniper's nest.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't respond.

"Clint?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

Evelyn scoffed, "No you aren't. Dad may be able to put on a brave face and act like nothing's going on but you don't have his poker face."

Clint looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Evelyn tried to prod him a little bit more. "Is this about the mission?"

"Yeah. Kinda," he sighed, "I guess you'll find out eventually. Might as well tell you now, I guess."

Evelyn waited for him to continue. He was silent for a little while as they reached the ground floor and stepped off the elevator.

"I need to find my brother," he said as they stepped into the locker room so he could drop off some things. "Phil and I think he may be involved somehow with the circus doing something illegal."

"Your brother? What makes you think he's involved?"

"Well, that's just the thing," said Clint as he pulled a sweatshirt out of his locker, "He's gone missing. For the past three months or so, nobody has heard anything from him!"

"Three months?" asked Evelyn incredulously, "You didn't think it was weird that you haven't talked in that long?"

"I've… fallen out of touch," he waved her off, "We fought about some things. It was a mess. Alright?"

"What on earth are you two fighting about to make it so you go months at a time without talking to each other?" prodded Evelyn.

"Stupid things," evaded Clint, pointedly avoiding eye contact with her. Evelyn seized his shoulder and forced him to look her in the eyes.

"It's not stupid if it is tearing your family apart."

Clint rolled his eyes in response. "Fine. Only because you gave me the 'Coulson glare.'"

They moved down to the cafeteria to talk about it out over a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Clint opened a package of oyster crackers and drowned them in the soup. He stirred his soup but didn't say anything for a while. He just stared at the soup like he was trying to find answers in the murky depths. Finally he began to open up.

"It all comes down to the fact that Barney just doesn't get it."

"It?"

"Life in SHIELD. I kept calling him because I wanted to talk to someone. I'll have a tough mission and just need someone to tell me everything would be okay, so I'd call. But he wasn't really helpful. He didn't want to just tell me I'd be fine and reassure me, he wanted to talk about the job. He would want to talk about the circus and I didn't want that. He would want me to join in bitching about work and I just couldn't do it. Part of it is just the nature of the job. There are things I do which I can't tell him about. I can't tell anyone. So I kinda kneecapped myself by being vague to begin with. But sometimes… I just needed to hear his voice," he hung his head, "I needed my big brother to tell me that everything was going to be okay. I need my big brother to give me great advice and tell me exactly what I needed to do to solve all my problems. I think he tried but, you know, unless you live it you don't know what to say about it. He's not part of… this system. So talking is no use. At all. He would just pester me with things like ask me if I'm eating right or if I've remembered to file my tax return and shit like that. And all our conversations just devolved into bickering because I couldn't talk about what I needed and he didn't know how to respond."

Evelyn bit her lip, "You know, any time you need to talk-"

He interrupted, "I know. I actually started talking to Nat a bit back when I first started realizing this was a problem. Agent Hill put me in charge of her and told me to get to know her. I would share somethin' and then she started to open up a bit in return. It was good for both of us. And, of course, your dad has been amazing. I'm glad to have people now who hear me out and don't shut down the instant I need them."

Evelyn pondered the oozing cheese of her sandwich for a moment, "I'm sorry it went… poorly."

"Me too," said Clint softly, sipping his soup, "I feel bad but I just can't handle it. I have enough really insane shit going on in my life. I don't need this extra personal drama."

"Family drama is always a mess," Evelyn muttered, shaking her head.

Clint stopped stirring his soup, "But you and Phil never fight."

"Sure we do. We get mad at each other sometimes but we make up. He's my dad, after all. No matter what happens, I still love him."

Clint sighed and rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his hair. "I don't mean to sound like I hate my brother. I don't. Barney was the only family I had and he tried to be both a brother and a dad to me. But I didn't want him to be my dad. I wanted him to be my brother. We got along great when he was just acting like my brother. My buddy. Once he tried being a dad to me, it was just awkward. I know it's hard to explain. I'm sorry if I'm not doing a good job."

Evelyn was quiet for a long moment. She finally decided to speak up, "You really don't talk about your parents much."

"Not much to say. I don't remember my dad at all. He left us when I was little. Barney always said he was a son of a bitch. He hit mom. He hit Barney. He might have hit me. If he did, I was too young to remember. One day, he just left. We haven't heard anything from him since. And I'm not keen to look for him."

"And your mom?"

"Mom had lupus. I didn't know until years after she died. Barney kept it from me," he said with a bitter edge to his voice, "Like, I knew that she was sick. She would come home and she would be tired and needed to nap all the time. Sometimes she would spend the whole day in bed. I found out later she spent so much time in bed because she was almost always in pain. I should have seen it as a warning sign. But I was a kid! When you're a kid, you don't understand things like chronic illness. I think also mom kept it from me because she didn't want me to worry but I dunno. So because nobody wanted to explain this to me, I didn't know she was that sick until after she died! And even then, Barney didn't tell me she had lupus nearly all her life until I was fifteen! Way to wait seven years after the fact!"

Evelyn put a hand on his, "He probably thought he was protecting you."

Clint was still scowling at the ground, "Maybe."

"Do you miss her?"

"Of course I do," admitted Clint, "I think about her a lot, actually. I wonder sometimes what life would be like if she was still alive. But, you know, there isn't much purpose in doing that. What's past is past. But I wonder."

"So, how did you end up in the circus?"

"Kind of a weird story," he admitted, "After mom died, Barney and I were basically orphans. Dad was nowhere to be found. Even if he was around, Barney made it clear we were not going to live with him. The state was going to put Barney and me into two different foster homes. We didn't want that. We didn't want to be separated."

"So you ran away and joined the circus?"

"Not right away. We knew our mother had some family in Ohio. Barney decided we were going to go there. Our plan was to go in a that-ish direction. I don't think either of us realized just how big Ohio is and how many people lived there. There was no way we could find them. Even if by some stroke of luck we did find them, they might not wanted us. It was a dumb idea. Really dumb. We ran out of cash just outside of Springfield. So we slept under a bridge for a little while. I don't remember much about it. It was a pretty shitty time in our lives," he admitted. But then he paused for a second and thought. "Actually I remember one thing. A little old lady saw us dumpster diving one time. She bought us dinner at an Ihop. I remember it was the best food I ever tasted. I was… beyond hungry."

Evelyn listened to him in silence. This confession seemed cathartic to him, releasing a load on his chest. The weight in his voice started to alleviate. His body relaxed as he told her everything.

"So then one day, Barney and I realized we had to find a way to get money or we would probably die on the street. Both of us were underage so getting a real job was not an option. Not legitimately, at least. Barney lied and said he was eighteen and got a part time job cleaning toilets for this amphitheater place in Springfield. I would tag along sometimes. We met Jacques while hanging out during the lunch break. And he said the circus was hiring. Barney quit his job that day and we were on a truck that night."

Clint paused, staring out the window for a long moment. Sighing, he finally revealed all that was on his mind.

"I don't think I've ever told you about the circus. Or what we did at the circus," he was silent for a moment longer, rubbing exhaustion from his eyes. Evelyn waited for him to continue. Finally he spoke up again. "The circus was a cover for a crime syndicate."

"I kind of figured. Dad told me you had a record, I just didn't realize it was systemic," said Evelyn.

"That must have been really flattering." Clint seemed to have a weight taken off his shoulders.

"No worse than your first impression," she joked. Clint groaned in response. Evelyn smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "You've grown. You're not the same guy you were back then. So I just didn't think that much of the fact that you had a record."

They sat in silence for a few moments, going over each other's words. It felt simultaneously like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders and like a fog settled over his eyes: quiet but also a little uncomfortable. This new reality would take some getting used to.

Evelyn spoke up, "So, do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah. I need to talk about it. I haven't been able to talk about it for ages and I need to-"

"Go for it."

Clint nodded and began his story. "After we were settled in, Barney and I found out the truth of the place. We went from town to town and while we were there, each of us had a 'cash quota' that we had to complete. It was different from city to city, but we could expect an average of two to five hundred bucks. If we didn't bring in enough cash, we lost our place on the squad. We would be dropped off in a strange city. Homeless. Alone. With no money. Some people raised money by selling crafts and junk. Some people got real work like being a handyman or day laborer or somethin' like that. I didn't have any of those skills. So… I had to do what I had to do. I stole things and pawned them. I used the cash to fill my quota."

Evelyn tried to keep her voice as kind as possible as she spoke. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Because I'm not proud of it," he snapped, "Simple as that. I did what I had to do to survive. We were desperate. Two boys with no prospects, no skills. And then a magic man comes and offers a solution. And the solution sounds like a lot of fun. By the time you realize you're trapped, it's too late. You can't even go to the cops or anything because then you have to admit your part of it. I was terrified. Honestly, if not for Phil… I don't know if I would have escaped. Ever. I would have died there."

"Does Nat know?"

"Nat knows about as much as you know now. I… I kind of told her my little sob story so she would open up and tell me hers."

"I kind of wish you had talked to me about it."

Clint shifted in his chair and turned to look out the window. "I guess I didn't want you to think less of me."

Evelyn felt her heart break a little bit at those words, "You know I wouldn't."

"I know. But I just feel… dirty about the whole thing. I have a lot of bad karma surrounding me. SHIELD has helped. But I don't think I'll feel satisfied until this whole mess is mopped up. Taking down the circus, preventing another kid from getting mixed up in this life, would make me feel a bit better. I know it won't fix things but it would help a little."

They sat and ate for a while, digesting much more than the food. As they stood to put their trays away and dump their trash, Evelyn expressed a nagging doubt in the back of her mind.

"I still don't get why this is SHIELD's business," said Evelyn.

"It's a stretch, I'll admit. But it makes sense," admitted Clint, "But since they cross state and international borders and started to pal around with known mercenary military organizations, we were brought in. Also, I happen to have personal experience. Even if it wasn't our jurisdiction, I probably would be called in anyway as a consultant."

It made sense. At least it made enough sense that Evelyn didn't feel the need to question it further. Clint was silent as he escorted her downstairs to the requisitions department for her new equipment. Clint stood off in the corner, signing off on paperwork, Evelyn familiarized herself with the new equipment.

She took time to pull every tool from its pouch so she could examine it and make sure she knew the location. There were dressings and bandages, antiseptic wipes and antibiotic ointments in small one-time-use tubes. There were various kinds of pills, powders, syringes, and patches for pain, stopping bleeding, and allergic reactions. There were tools like thermometers, tweezers, breathing barriers for artificial respiration, gloves, and scissors. Among the contents was a reflective blanket for hypothermia which folded up into a neat little pocket in a vacuum sealed bag. There was also a cold compress which was activated by shaking it. There were also a few non-medical tools in her kit like a tiny hand-crank radio, a whistle, a heavy flashlight, and little white tablets to help purify water. Everything had a neatly labelled pocket and folded together into something like a fanny pack which clipped onto her standard-issue suit.

The suit itself reminded her a bit of her old X-men uniform. She still kept that old thing, even though she had long since outgrown it. It was tucked into a garment bag in the bottom of her closet, much like an old letterman's jacket. The new suit was a bit more high-tech. It featured custom molded graphite armor. It was only about as thick as a piece of cardboard but it was incredibly strong. The tech said it was strong enough to stop all but the highest caliber bullets. It was waterproof, fireproof, and could double as a floatation device (the last part may have been the tech pulling her leg a bit). This entire thing was brand-new and highly experimental.

The newest suits were being fitted with joints and nodes to accommodate added layers of body armor or maybe someday a mechanical exosuit. Those were still prototypes and mostly intended for lifting heavier loads. The person with the exosuit was almost always the designated packhorse. She was relieved her suit did not contain this feature. But there were special slots for her to hold batteries.

The lab tech brought forth two batteries, each roughly the size of a Snickers bar. Battery technology had improved since her time with the X-men. Now there were some varieties which held a lot more charge and other ones which recharged faster. Since she had four in total now, she could have two with her while the other two charged so she would never be without.

"So, I had an idea," said Clint after he finished signing the required paperwork, "What if we just got you a chunk of uranium to work with. Because, it's energy, right? You can get power from that."

Evelyn laughed in his face, "Clint! If I brought a chunk of uranium into the field, I would probably melt everyone's face off! Or give everybody cancer! Either way, it's not a good thing."

"Oh yeah," Clint shook his head, "I didn't think of that. That was kind of dumb."

"You know, it is a good thing I'm here for the science part of the team."

Evelyn smiled and put the batteries in the pockets of her pants. The weight was strangely comforting. It was like being back with the X-men. She wanted to pretend like she was an old veteran even though she was more than a little nervous. Training wheels were off. She was playing with the big boys now.

Clint even gave her the role of flying the quinjet. She loved the way it controlled, smooth and slick, if a bit sensitive. She could almost forget just how high they were off the ground so long as her hands were on the steering wheel and she could control where they were going. Behind her, Clint gave the facts of the case to the rest of the strike team, including Maria for some reason.

"We're going to Scranton, Pennsylvania," explained Clint, "Rent is cheaper out of town than in the city limits. You get just a little bit out of town and the price drops. That's a typical method. So, you never go to Pittsburgh, you go to Scranton."

"Skip the economics lesson and get to the point," instructed Maria.

"Right, sorry, this is the first time I'm heading up a mission myself. It's kind of cool."

"Barton…"

"Right, um," he looked around, "Here's the deal. Over the past year or so, the Cirque de Nuit has become more aggressive in their thievery. Several patrons of the circus have reported being robbed as a result of being drugged or attacked. Our plants in the audience have also noticed some powerful weapons in the hands of security which seem a bit like overkill for the crimes we know they are committing. We've done some preliminary work, like some bugs and satellite imaging, and we've found a big increase in security around the place. There are key cards, armored vehicles, excessive amounts of security guards. Completely overkill for this kind of business, obviously. We need to find out exactly what this stuff is for."

Nods all around. So far, so standard. This was the sort of thing SHIELD did all the time, recon and spy stuff combined with apprehending criminals and doing what they needed to do to bring the bad guys to justice. This was what they did.

"So, we're going to need to do a couple different things. Nat- sorry, Agent Romanoff, is going to retrieve some audio and video bugs we planted there last week. Agent Coulson, the younger, is going to serve as our medical and communications backup. She's going to come with me for stage one because I need to meet with some potential witnesses and conduct a round of informal interviews to get a lay of the land. Our "B" team is going to stand by and survey the scene and provide a game plan for apprehending the main players. Once all these components are completed, then we apprehend the main players and begin standard interrogation procedures. That's why Commander Hill is here."

Maria stood up, "Our preliminary intelligence has tied them with known mercenary groups. Our goal is to find out why a circus is involved with mercenaries and try to subdue the threat with minimal collateral damage. Is this understood?"

There was a murmur of understanding throughout the quinjet as Evelyn began their descent just outside of a wooded area. The plane came in for a soft landing, ruffling the nearby trees so they dropped a few dead twigs and a flutter of leaves. They were parked a few miles out so that way they wouldn't alert the target that they were on their way. It was a heck of a walk through the dark and the quiet woods. Slowly, a light filtered through the trees, soft and golden like the first rays of dawn. Purple flags rustled in the soft breeze. They reached their destination.

The circus was a magical place. The constant movement of people in a dozen directions at once and overstimulation of the senses lent itself to high vibrations and an overall chaotic atmosphere. Even now, when most people were asleep and the place was generally quiet, there was a hum to the air. A sense of anticipation vibrated like a plucked string on a guitar. It left a jittery feeling in the pit of Evelyn's stomach.

The big top was just starting to go up. The interior scaffolding was nearly complete and section of canvas were being pulled up with nylon ropes. In the dusk, she could barely see the colors of the tent but it appeared a rich plum and a silky snow white. The main tent was surrounded by two smaller tents and a large number of trucks and trailers for performers and equipment.

"Just like old times," muttered Clint, "Funny. It even smells the same."

Out of curiosity, Evelyn inhaled and tried to pick out what smells Clint could be referring to. She mostly smelled trees. But there was a little whiff of moldering straw on the breeze. Perhaps that was the smell he was referring to. It was pungent and distinctive but she would never associate it with the circus.

He gestured and they moved into the maze of boxy trailers and RVs. The rest of the group lingered behind, setting up their equipment at the edge of the woods, covered by the forest underbrush. Evelyn wasn't sure where they were going but trusted Clint knew what he was doing. Natasha split off in the other direction, quickly vanishing in the darkness between spotlights.

Eventually, Clint guided her to a plain burlap tent toward the outside edge of the campgrounds. It was kind of ugly and stained with something that she dearly hoped was water. With a gesture, he took a flanking positions, bow at the ready. Evelyn took the opposite position. He stared at her.

"What?" whispered Evelyn.

Clint tilted his head toward her thigh and whispered, "Gun."

"Oh!" Evelyn fumbled for her service sidearm and readied it.

He pointed her to the right side while he took up the left side. The inside of the tent was dark. The only light came from dim amber lamps dotted around the place. It was too dark to see exactly what was moving but she could hear a pitter-patter over the hum of the lights. Something was moving around in the shadows. She didn't want to fire the gun if she didn't have to. For one, the entire mission could go belly-up if she made too much noise. Instead, she shifted the gun so it pointed toward the ground. She readied her right hand so it started to warm. A blue glow emanated from her nails and highlighted the network of nerves along her fingers.

"Hey, shine the light this way," whispered Clint, "I can barely see where I'm going."

Evelyn held up her hand and a soft light cut through the dark over to where Clint was standing. He didn't have his bow drawn now. Evelyn looked around at the space but for some reason couldn't quite process what she was seeing.

"Where are we?"

"Reptile house," explained Clint, "Zelda does this act where she does dances and acrobatics with snakes and things. Kinda like that Britney Spears thing. And she also does a kind of show-and-tell with kids. 'Reptiles need love too' and that sort of stuff."

"Ew."

Clint smiled wryly, "Don't let her hear that."

The reptile tent had a peculiar smell, earthy eau de reptile tinged with the sharp knife edge of ammonia. It took a special sort of person to appreciate reptiles and Evelyn wasn't sure she was that kind of person. An iguana snoozed in his tank under a flickering heat lamp. In another tank, a very large brown snake coiled up and around itself like a living mobius strip. The creature opened a lazy yellow eye as they passed but appeared uninterested and dozed off once again.

There were other creatures in dimly lit cages: turtles, lizards, and other tanks where there was no animal immediately present. They walked briskly to avoid disturbing anything or anyone.

"So, who is Zelda, anyway?" she whispered.

"An old friend. Kinda. Not really my friend. More Barney's friend," explained Clint, "I think they may have been sleeping together because I remember they were always clinging all over each other. He never talked about it with me, obviously. But she was around all the time. If anyone knew what happened to Barney, it would be her."

By now they had completely circled the tent and there was nobody to be found, unless you counted the reptiles and Evelyn certainly didn't. Unless Zelda was a lizard, she was nowhere to be found in this place. When Evelyn mentioned it, Clint just made a low humming noise and gestured for them to leave the tent.

He walked the circumference of the tent and back again, examining the burlap like he was looking for something. Whatever he was trying to find, it was not there. He rubbed the back of his head as he walked back to Evelyn.

"Weird," he muttered, "It's definitely her place but it is strange for her to leave it abandoned."

"Do we need to call this in?"

"Not yet," said Clint, "Let's rendezvous with Nat. She may have something to say about it."

"Okay, where is she?"

"Here," said a voice just behind her. Evelyn held in a scream but still jumped a mile when Natasha appeared behind her.

"Did you find her?" Nat asked, ignoring Evelyn's visible distress.

"No. She's gone."

Natasha sighed, "Is there anywhere else she could be?"

"Maybe. I've a hunch. But I say if she isn't there, we split and try again another night. We may have been tipped off," he paused, "Did you see Barney?"

Natasha shook her head, "The tent you directed me toward was empty."

"Anything on the eyes or ears?"

"I haven't checked them yet."

Clint pondered the situation for a second, "Zelda may be at her trailer. If she isn't there, we'll pack up and try again another-"

Nat put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. Clint followed her eyeline and saw something which gave him pause. He waved both of them back into the tent. Evelyn followed his gesture but felt intensely curious what they saw to cause this reaction. They watched the shadows shift like the wind before all went silent. Clint stepped forward, tentatively creeping toward the tent flap. He opened it and stepped in. Natasha and Evelyn leaned in behind him.

There was a click. Natasha had popped a new clip in her gun and clicked back the safety. Evelyn thought she should probably prepare herself as well. Her fingertips warmed as she reached into her pocket for one of the batteries.

In the pale light, Evelyn could see a strange woman standing by the stack of cages. She definitely was not there a minute ago. Between the glow from Evelyn's hand and the heat lamps for the reptiles, Evelyn got a pretty good look at her. She looked like she was in her late twenties or early thirties. The roots of her hair were sepia but the rest of her locks were bright crimson. Celery green eyes surveyed the ensemble. She was still wearing a lot of bright, bold stage makeup.

"Yes, who are you?" she had a slight southern accent which reminded Evelyn of Rogue.

"Zelda! It's me, Clint! Barney's brother."

"Oh my God, Clint?"In the blink of an eye she closed the gap between them and pulled Clint into a tight hug. She ran her hands along his arms, over his shoulders, and up to his face so she could pinch his cheeks. "You've grown up! Oh my God! You've become a man! Where have you been?"

"It's a long story," he said, "can we talk a bit somewhere a bit more private?"

She shot him a confused look but nodded. "My trailer is just over there. You didn't get yourself in trouble or anything, did you?"

"Not quite like that," he said vaguely, "I'll tell you a bit more when we are somewhere private."

"Fine, fine," she waved him away and led them from the tent into the night.

Zelda looked left, right, and back again as they neared the maze of parked trailers. She gestured and led them to a tiny beige RV attached to the back of a rubbish old pickup truck. The interior was pretty humble. A few colorful dreamcatchers hung from the ceiling and a variety of crystals sat on the windowsill. There was a large poster of a Hindu god with an elephant head hanging on one wall (Evelyn wasn't sure which one that was). On one end of the trailer, there was a narrow bed with bright purple sheets and crocheted throw pillows. It folded into a bench and a table swung down from the wall, held up by spindly little legs. She set them down around the makeshift kitchen.

"Can I get y'all anything? I could put on some coffee or maybe somethin' stronger?" offered Zelda.

Clint looked over at Evelyn and Nat before shaking his head, "No, thanks. Actually we're kind of in a hurry. I have some questions."

Zelda nodded, "I think I know what this is about."

"You do?" asked Clint, dubious eyebrow raised.

She smiled, softly, "Clint, dearie, I'm not an idiot. Barney said you were going military and now you're here with two Bond girls. I'm assuming you're here because of something illegal going on 'round here and I've a good idea who's to blame."

Evelyn felt a bit miffed at being called a Bond girl. Her irritation increased when she realized that Clint was not saying a word in her defense. But she kept her mouth shut for the time being. He would hear about this later.

"Can you tell me what Jacques has been up to?" asked Clint.

Zelda shrugged, "I can tell you what I know but it ain't much. He's been pushing people away for the past year or so. Even the old crew who've been here forever are, all of a sudden, being treated like new hires. Jacques has been fixin' for richer clientele and hired a new ringmaster, some fella outta Chicago named Maynard. He's worked the Vegas circuit and other classy places. Since he's been here, lotsa sketchy characters have been in and out. They look like mob types to me."

Clint shot a look over to Natasha but the other woman seemed to be staring straight ahead, listening. Evelyn stood by the bathroom, rocking back and forth on her heels. She sort of wondered what her purpose was in this operation other than just to act as medic. Her mind threatened to wander but she willed herself to stay focused.

"He's got a goon hanging around him," noted Clint, "Any idea who that guy is?"

Zelda shrugged, "Jacques just calls him 'Taskmaster.' At first, I thought he was a made man like the others but he doesn't look the mob type. He's got himself a bunch of… I don't really know. I guess his own personal army of bodyguards. They're better trained and they've more fancy toys than you would expect from a gangster type."

"You know why they're here?"

"Either Maynard or Jacques hired him for protection. They said something a while ago about needing guards because there was going to be a lot more money comin' in. But if there is, I haven't seen it yet. It certainly ain't bein' reflected in my paycheck. I think there's somethin' he ain't tellin' us."

Clint sighed, "Is there anything else you recall? Even a small detail could help."

Zelda was quiet for a few seconds as she thought, "Well, Jacques hired a new accountant. Some wormy little fella named Frank came to town about the same time Maynard did. He's kind of a prick, actually. He got on my case because my heat lamps apparently drain too much power. I told him, if I turn the lamps off, my babies freeze to death and we have no show. He kept getting up in my face until I slugged him. Jacques told me to lay off. He told me to lay off. That was, maybe, two weeks ago."

Clint's eyes flicked over to Nat and back again, "Who is this guy? I thought Barney was doin' accounting."

"I haven't seen Barney in… gosh, maybe six months," said Zelda softly, "It's been a while. He talked about leaving before then, but I thought he was just all talk and wasn't planning on following through."

Clint rubbed the back of his neck, "Do you know where he went?"

Zelda shook her head, "Last I saw him, we were in Louisiana. He told me he had some stuff packed and he was going to book it after our last show in Baton Rouge. Right before he left, he talked to me about going back to Iowa. But before then he also talked about going to Chicago or St. Louis. He also talked about finding family in Ohio. He also talked about going to New York to find you. Truth is, I have no idea which plan he went with. He probably laid several trails so if Jacques or Maynard went after him, he could stall them."

Natasha tilted her head, "Why would they be after him?"

Zelda looked around nervously, as if afraid the walls had ears. "Barney took the books with him. He told me wherever he went, he was going to find some way to get this to the authorities. He didn't tell me much about it. He didn't want me involved."

She looked away for a second and wiped her eyes. There was definitely a story there but it was doubtful they would hear any of it. Clint finally spoke up. "I think you're going to be involved soon whether you like it or not."

Zelda looked up. "Good. Tell me what you need me to do."

It was easy to get Zelda to agree to testify against Jaques and the others. She could definitely get them in touch with people who would happily testify against the circus. Some were on site and others were disgruntled ex-employees. Everything was laid out and ready to go.

"Are you expecting company?" asked Natasha, glancing through the window. There were shadows moving closer through the tents and trailers.

"No," muttered Zelda, standing and peeking out the curtains, "Shit! Jacques! Y'all gotta hide!"

Evelyn glanced around the small space, "Where?"

"Bathroom," insisted Zelda, throwing open the door, "Quick! Quick!"

Nobody asked for clarification but followed Zelda's gesture. There wasn't much space in the bathroom. Clint and Natasha squished into the shower while Evelyn knelt between the toilet and sink. Zelda shushed them and shut the door, leaving a small crack that they could barely glance through. No sooner did they settle than there was a knock on the door. Zelda answered.

"Jacques! What brings you out my way this time of night?"

"We're leaving in the morning," said Jacques. He had a light, barely there, French accent. "Maynard has a new venue for us."

"But I just unpacked!" insisted Zelda, "My babies do not like being moved around like this."

"Tough. We're packing up and moving out. Seven AM. Prompt."

Zelda clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Jacques looked back over her shoulder, "Can I use your loo?"

"No!" she snapped, "I haven't had time to set up the septic yet."

Evelyn noticed that Clint had a hand on his bow. A silvery beam of moonlight fell across his pale eyes so they seemed as sharp as a knife and hard as marble.

"Fine," sighed Jacques, "I'll see you in the morning."

The door snapped shut. Something clicked, maybe the lock. Clint seemed satisfied that the threat was gone and put the arrow back in his quiver. That dangerous, angry look in his eye was not as easily resheathed. Zelda opened the door and ushered them out.

"Clint. Take care of yourself," requested Zelda, she smiled slightly hugged him close, "You're a good boy. Don't get yourself hurt."

"I'll to my best," he promised, "Don't worry, we'll get 'em."

Natasha started looking out the windows to see if there was anyone poking around outside, tracking their movements. When she was satisfied the coast was clear, Zelda unlocked the door and they left.

"And Clint?" continued Zelda as they walked out into the night.

He turned. Zelda stood in the murky light of the doorway, hands clasped as if in prayer. She smiled softly as she spoke.

"If you see Barney, tell him I-I… I miss him."

He had a soft smile on his face, "Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'll let him know."

They waited until they were out of view before speaking. Even then, Clint spoke in a low, measured undertone. Even though she was standing right next to him, Evelyn could barely hear any of it.

"I suppose she could be protecting him," noted Clint.

"She's not," insisted Natasha.

Clint considered Nat for a moment before nodding and accepting her words. Evelyn didn't know when Natasha became the human lie detector, but she was just going to accept it for the time being. If Clint trusted her judgement, she was just going to go with it. It was more efficient than arguing.

"So, now what?" asked Evelyn, "Are we done?"

"I guess. I'm… " Clint started to say but he cut himself off and gazed off into the middle distance. "Lights are on in the admin trailer."

Natasha and Evelyn followed his gaze into the distance. Sure enough, an amber light flickered in a trailer not far from the tent. It didn't seem like a big deal. She wouldn't have thought it was at all unusual if Clint didn't seem intensely fixated on it.

"Clint…" said Natasha, "Is this relevant to the mission?"

"What if it's Barney?"

Natasha shook her head, "Zelda would have said something."

"Zelda said she didn't know what happened to him. He could be held against his will," reasoned Clint.

"Do you really think that's true?"

Clint shrugged, "I don't want to assume and then it turns out we had an opportunity to save him and we didn't take our chance. He could be in real trouble."

Natasha narrowed her eyes but sighed and conceded. She radioed back to Maria, who gave them a go-ahead with the proviso that they would make this side trip quick so B-team could move in and make the arrests. Nat promised they would be ready in under twenty minutes. Maria told them it better be more like ten.

Clint led them to an older model trailer, chrome and probably lead paint. There was a large dent on the side. It sort of looked like the indent of a bumper of a pickup truck. There was an amber light inside. Clint held a hand up, signalling them to wait.

A muffled voice ranted inside. Loudly. Angry, maybe. Natasha pulled something from her pocket and stuck it on a panel of the trailer. She tossed another small, black object to Evelyn. She fumbled it in the dark, dropping it onto the dark grass. She felt around. Eventually fingers brushed something soft, like silicone. It was an earpiece. She stuffed it into her ear.

"I blame you for this," hissed the first male voice. Evelyn recognized his voice from before. The French accident was a dead giveaway. This was Jacques. "We were operating under absolute discretion until you came here!"

The other man did not say anything right away. It took a good ten seconds before he responded. Slowly, meticulously, he sighed and shuffled. His voice was like a clacking typewriter. Sharp. Punctuated. Precise.

"Do you really think that SHIELD could rally their strike teams and track us down in less than an hour? No. I know their methods. They only move with approval and affidavit. They have been following you for some time and tracking your motions. This is not my problem. It's yours. You have a spy in your midst."

Jacques spluttered and fumed. He did not so much say words as he created half-formed sounds and incoherent jabbering. Finally, he exploded.

"We hired you for security purposes! So, secure the damn thing!"

"You hired me," corrected the man in the same even tone, "to watch your precious cache of trinkets. As far as I am concerned, my end of the contract has been fulfilled. Now, if you wish to talk about renegotiating into a more comprehensive security program, that can be arranged. But do not insult me by implying that I have not done the job for which I was hired."

Jacques spluttered, "Well… we have to do something!"

"It's too late now. The place is surrounded," said the other man with an almost eerie state of calm. "And there's no way we could relocate your cache to a secure vehicle and make a clean escape in time. I suggest you take an off-road vehicle and drive as fast as you can to the north."

"We still have the intruders to deal with," snapped Jacques, "Are you going to do anything about it?"

The other sighed, "It will be an additional fee."

"Fine, fine," dismissed Jacques. "Go get Barton and bring him here. I have a thing or two to say to him."

"And any others?"

"Whatever you want," snapped Jacques, "I don't care. I just want Barton so I can personally wring his scrawny neck."

The front door of the trailer banged open, making Evelyn jump. She saw two pairs of feet emerge on the other side of the trailer. She held her breath, terrified. The two men were within ten feet of her. One set of feet went running off across the gravel into the sea of trailers. The other stood in place. After a moment, she heard the chirp of a walkie-talkie and the man with the typewriter voice spoke.

"I need you to prepare an ATV on the north side of the property and hop to it. I'll need it within the next five minutes," he sighed, "Oh, and if you happen to find anyone without proper authentication, feel free to subdue them in the way you see fit. Nonlethal, please. I'm not interested in becoming a cop killer for these idiots. A standard bonus to all security personnel who take down an intruder."

Evelyn looked for guidance from Nat and Clint but they seemed equally surprised at the development. She opened her mouth to speak but Natasha put a finger to her lips to shut her up and gestured for them to continue moving out of the way, back toward the woods to hide in the darkness until all this could blow over. They continued to creep in the shadows, undetected, until Evelyn started to see flashlight beams pierce the night.

"In here," said Clint, "Come on."

Natasha and Evelyn followed his gesture into a short tent made mostly of overlapping tarps. It was dimly lit by a single dim floodlight and filled mostly with boxes. This seemed like little more than a storage area. Clint directed them to kneel behind a large crate.

"That was enlightening," noted Natasha.

"I'm going to take out Jacques," said Clint, ignoring what Natasha wanted to say.

"No," insisted Natasha, "We have strike teams in place and they are already on the move. We are going to stay here until we reach friendly territory. If we aren't careful, this can become a hostage situation."

"What about the guy planning to make a break for it?" noted Evelyn, "He said he could make it if he goes cross-country and he has a vehicle to get him there. It seems like someone needs to cut that off now."

"We'll radio Hill and track him," said Natasha, "Right now, we are not in a good strategic place."

'I'm with Evelyn," interjected Clint, "We have vital information and if we don't act on it now, then we will be tracking a fugitive instead of arresting a suspect."

Evelyn felt like Clint was putting words in her mouth, but felt they didn't really have time to argue right now. It was more important to think of a plan. Right now, Natasha's plan of staying put and waiting this out seemed pretty attractive. For one, she was much less likely to get shot. That was always a plus.

Unfortunately, they didn't have any further time to discuss the issue. Natasha pressed a finger to her lips. Evelyn shut her mouth and listened. At first she heard nothing. After a few seconds, the thumping sound of a stampede of feet passed just to their left and a flurry of overlapping voices sounded from not far away. It could have been SHIELD agents but it also could have been the security forces the man in the trailer was alluding to. They sat in silence until the noises vanished.

Natasha turned to say something but caught herself when a new sound introduced itself. A pair of stamping feet coming from the backside of the tent. The noise passed within a few feet of them. Evelyn could feel the vibrations through the ground. The steps stopped, turned, went back the way they came for a second, and then continued forward, pacing nearby.

"Barton!" yelled the man with the French accent, Jacques, "I know you are out there, Barton! You can't hide from me!"

Clint's shoulders tensed and he audibly drew in breath. Evelyn pressed a hand against his. He clenched his hand into a fist. His grip was so tight, she could feel the tendons bulging on the back of his hand. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the grip of his bow. He shook her off, anger radiating from his every move.

"Barton! You son of a bitch! I always knew you were good for nothing scum!"

Clint's fingers ran across the tense bowstring and he readied he draw. He pulled an arrow from the quiver and prepared to nock it. Evelyn put a hand on his wrist.

"Clint, no," she whispered.

Jacques paced the tent, tossing the place as he went. Something clattered. Something else smashed. Jacques growled as he shoved his way through the crates.

"Come out, you dirty unwashed coward!" snapped Jacques, kicking over something with a clatter, "I can smell your filth!"

A look passed over Clint's face, dark as a shadow. All his fear evaporated and his brow knit together in anger. He reached around and pulled an arrow from his quiver, readying his bow for action as he got to his knees. Natasha pressed a hand against his shoulder, pushing him back against the crate.

"Don't. He's goading you," whispered Nat urgently. The color was rising in his face, particularly around his ears. Even in the dark, the high color in his cheeks glowed with rage. His lips pressed into a hard line. Natasha's face became hard to match his. "This is not part of our objective."

Jacques was still pacing. Evelyn could hear he was drawing close. Maybe he heard something from them. He spoke softer now. "When I find you, I'm gonna rip your arms right out of your shoulders, you worthless piece of shit."

"Don't care," muttered Clint. He turned, throwing the burlap tent open, aiming the sharp point of the arrow toward Jaques and pulled back the bowstring.

"No!" yipped Evelyn. She grabbed his arm tightly, pulling it back. It was just enough to throw off his aim in the instant before he released the bowstring. Instead of flying straight and true, the arrow jerked off at an angle and struck the man in the shoulder. He cried out and dropped.

Evelyn tackled Clint, throwing him to the ground. Her eyes narrowed with anger as she pinned him by his shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" he hissed back, equally as angry. Evelyn reeled at his tone of voice and he wriggled himself free, throwing her to the side. She landed against the hard ground with a thud, staring up at him in disbelief.

"Guys! No time!" snapped Natasha.

Jacques managed to get to his feet, the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He groaned loudly in pain. He looked over his shoulder to Clint and then ran off deep into the circus. When Evelyn got up and looked around, Clint had vanished. Nat started jogging off in the direction.

"Head north," she called over her shoulder, "Try to cut the other guy off."

Evelyn nodded, not that Natasha saw it. She was already going after Clint to make sure he didn't turn Jacques into a human pincushion. Evelyn pulled a battery from her pouch. She felt the energy flow into her body. It made chills shoot up and down her spine. Static made the hairs stand up on her arms. A familiar coppery feeling filled her mouth. Her ears popped. She was flooded with power. She looked at her hands and her skin lit up with glowing bright blue spiderwebs.

She stepped outside the tent and looked around. She actually couldn't tell which way was north. There was too much light to navigate via the stars. Fortunately, she used a GPS to get here and she knew where the plane was in relation to this place. It was not foolproof, since her memory was a little spotty. But she figured that a guess, even an incorrect one, was better than standing around and staring at her hands. She turned left and hurried toward the edge of the tents. A motor revved nearby. It sounded close. Perhaps this was the man she was looking for. She started to run at full tilt in the direction of the sound. It became louder as she drew nearer. Good sign.

SHIELD regulations would have called for her to draw her firearm but she had a fist full of fire and couldn't wait to explode. So when she saw the slick man revving up an ATV, she charged at it at full speed. He heard her footsteps, turned, and tried to gun the engine and speed away. Apparently, however, the ATV was in an area of soft earth so it spun its wheels for just a second and that was long enough for Evelyn to plant a foot against the machine and flip it. The vehicle made a loud noise and tumbled over itself several times before coming to a rest, tires-up, some distance away. The man somehow managed to flip off of the ATV and tumble to safety. He dirtied the knees of his jeans but seemed otherwise unharmed.

Evelyn sent out a bolt of lightning toward him. The idea was to use her powers as a taser and knock him down so she could pin him until the people with handcuffs came by to finish the job. Apparently it didn't work as she expected because the strange guy seemed to shake it off remarkably well.

"That's new," said the man, "Is that a mechanized weapon or a mutation?"

Evelyn didn't say anything. She stepped to the left to keep a reasonable distance between herself and this fact the bolt of electricity seemed to have no effect on him had thrown her off her game.

"Perhaps," he mused, "I shall find out for myself."

Evelyn's eyes got wide. She wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that. But he had a predatory glare to his eyes which frightened her. This could be a fight that she would lose and if she did, it would not be good for her.

She caught a brief glimpse of a knife, sparkling in the low light. She was able to duck the thrown knife and throw up a shield for good measure. If she just sat and shielded herself, he would probably be inclined to just run off and leave her alone. Good for her, bad for the mission. She had to take him down somehow. Her mind scanned through her training but she couldn't, for the life of her, think of anything useful. Her brain kept flashing back to the atomic number of barium for some reason and that would do her absolutely no good at all.

She tried instead, pushing the shield further out to try to pin him back against the tent wall but he dodged and tried to flank her. Evelyn dropped the shield and had almost no time to dodge. He tackled her, threatening to knock the wind out of her as she did so. Somehow, she had no idea how, she managed to put a foot between the two of them and kick him off as she landed on her back. Pain shot up her back. Her tailbone hurt, like she had landed on a rock. But the man went flying off to the side, leaving her a little time to recover. He got to his feet. Now they were more or less back in the standoff, but with a brand-new bruise.

This time, he started the offensive and made a lunge toward her. Evelyn's mind raced. Her first inclination was to throw up a shield but she didn't want to incinerate the guy. So instead, she tried to block his grapple by grabbing his shoulder and attempting to throw him off of her. He had a very firm grip and managed to drag her to the ground with him. He tried to throw a punch once they were both on the grass but his arm wasn't at the right angle to land a successful hit so it glanced off of Evelyn's shoulder in a mildly painful but mostly ineffectual jab. She tried to return the punch but it didn't work and she missed completely, burying her knuckles into the soft earth. The man flipped quickly back onto his feet. Evelyn, less gracefully, got to her knees. The man was close, in her personal space in a way she didn't much care for.

"You are sloppy," he scolded. Evelyn almost scoffed and rolled her eyes. She heard that one before. Something bubbled in the back of her head, making her eyes burn red hot as she got to her feet. It was time to take the shot.

Evelyn pulled her fist back and planted her feet. Her fist slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying back into one of the scaffold supports. Something cracked. Evelyn wasn't sure at first if it was bone or the wood. But the cracking noise continued and the scaffolding started to lean.

"Oops," Evelyn bit her lip sheepishly.

The scaffold crashed to the ground, right on top of where the angry man had landed. She slowly walked over and heard a groan. The man stood up and shot her a dirty look before running off into the night, quickly turning a corner to break her line of sight. Evelyn took off after him but found that just around the corner stood a phalanx of SHIELD agents with guns drawn. The angry man had already been apprehended at the barrel of a gun.

He shot her a nasty look but Evelyn was too tired and distracted to pay him much mind. Frankly, she was grateful the fight was over. She was running out of moves. The SHIELD agents guided her back to the main camp. It seemed further away now than it did before, but maybe that was her tired feet doing the talking.

When she got back to camp, she took a second to look around. Clint was nowhere to be seen but Nat was back and covered with mud. Apparently whatever happened between her and Clint ended with one or both of them taking a nose dive into the dirt.

"What happened?" asked Evelyn.

Natasha sighed, "Just the usual, wrestling Clint and Jacques away from each other so they don't strange each other."

"And you actually managed that?"

Nat sighed, "Mostly. I was able to hold them both apart long enough for the backup forces to come and arrest Jacques."

"And Clint?"

"Well… He's not happy right now."

"What do you mean?"

Natasha opened her mouth to respond but they heard a very angry voice interrupt, "There you are."

Evelyn turned and saw Clint stomping toward them. He was covered from head to foot in mud, worse so than Natasha. It was hard to tell in the dark but some of it may have been blood. He smelled a bit like blood. It could have been his, or it could have been someone else's blood. Either situation seemed equally possible.

"What did you do that for?" Clint snapped at them as he drew near.

Evelyn looked around defensively. "What?"

Nat stepped up behind Evelyn, "First, you need to explain yourself."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" snapped Clint, turning to face Natasha, "I had things taken care of!"

"You were compromised," retorted Nat, "You were doing what you wanted to do, not what the mission called for!"

"Yeah? So what?" He snapped in retort, "I can do both."

"No, you can't, Clint," she returned, "Evelyn did you a favor and kept you from making the biggest mistake of your life."

"And what would that be?" Clint shouted in frustration.

"Killing Jacques. Alive, he can be brought to justice. Dead, everything dies with him. He gets off easy. As long as he lives, he has to watch his step," her eyes glinted in the dim light, "But you were too out of your head to realize that."

Clint looked like he was trying to come up with a rebuttal. Really, it was just him spluttering and stammering with frustration as he tried to thread words together into something cohesive. The result was less indignation and more word soup.

"You can't see it now, but you know I'm right," insisted Natasha.

Clint scowled at the ground. All he had was rage. The russet flush in his cheeks had yet to diminish.

"You can't possibly understand! I hate him!" snarled Clint. "I'll never forgive Jaques for what he did to us kids. That man ruined our lives. He's little better than a pimp. He forced us to do awful things for him. And for what? Money? Is that seriously it? He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as us. Do you honestly expect me to just let this go?"

There was such a ferocious anger in his voice, Evelyn felt like he needed to take a step back. His eyes narrowed, lips curled, a hot flush raced across his face, all the way up to his ears. She couldn't recall seeing his face contorted in this way and it disturbed her. She tried to summon her thoughts to talk to him about the mission. But as soon as she opened her mouth, he cut her off.

"I know you want to talk but I don't want to," insisted Clint, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I don't have… I don't know what I want to say. I need to… think."

He turned to walk away, back toward the waiting helicopters. Evelyn reached out, opening her mouth to go after him. But she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Nat holding her back. She shook her head, dirty red curls bouncing as she did.

"Don't. Not now. Let him calm down first before you say anything," she advised, "You two don't want to say something out of anger that you regret."

On the one hand, Evelyn agreed. On the other hand, the ride home was excruciating because she felt a loose end dangling like the unravelling threads of a well-loved sweater. Clint was pointedly looking away from her and Nat, choosing instead to stare at the floor like it personally offended him. She wanted to talk to Clint and keeping her distance physically hurt.

"Cactus? Are you even paying attention?"

Evelyn looked up from her hands to Nick leaning across the desk. Her mind wandered off during the debriefing interviews, thinking of Clint.

"Sorry! I'm… tired," she lied, unconvincingly. Nick shot her a look and she instantly melted. "I'm worried about Clint. I know this mission was tough on him..."

"I'm aware," said Nick, "But the bee in Agent Barton's bonnet is not our concern right now. He and I will be chatting about that matter later. For now, I need your personal opinion on the figure known as 'Taskmaster.'"

"He hits pretty hard," said Evelyn, unsure exactly what Nick was asking for. "But using my powers seemed to throw him off balance for a bit."

"So, that's how you were able to take him out?"

"No, I took him out by punching him in the face."

Nick chuckled. Then the chuckle turned into a deep belly laugh. For the life of her, Evelyn couldn't figure out what was so funny. When she tried to ask, it took Nick a second to stop laughing and regain control of his breathing.

"Masters has a photographic memory. He can learn any fighting technique just by watching it once. We theorized that if we threw someone at him who had something he had never seen before, we might be able to get an upper hand. At least for a while. That's why we wanted you."

"Me?"

Nick smirked, still recovering from his laugher, "And we thought you might have a few tricks up your sleeve that could catch him by surprise. Or at least stall him for long enough to allow backup to do the mop-up. And then you take him out just by punching him in the face. Shit. Months of planning, just for that."

Evelyn shrugged, "Sorry for being underwhelming."

"I'll give you this, Coulson. You may be a bit of a rough diamond, but you get the job done. Even if you don't do exactly what we think you will."

"Thanks… I think," said Evelyn, unsure if Nick was giving her a compliment or not. She decided to look at it in the most positive light. It made her feel a little better about everything.

There was an awkward stretch of a few days where she and Clint barely spoke unless it was absolutely necessary. The mission at the circus left him uncharacteristically reclusive. Natasha shared her concerns but advised to give him some space and he would reach out when he felt like it. True though that may be, Evelyn didn't like seeing Clint in distress and itched to find a way to help. So, when he walked into the lab while she was tinkering with a new project, she dropped everything to listen.

"I got a message to meet someone at a pizza place downtown," he explained. "Whoever they were, they said it was something to do with the circus. Fury thinks that maybe it is our original tipster. But we don't know. Do you want to be my backup?"

She leapt at the chance, dropping what she was doing to go with him. "You know I will."

Since this was an actual mission, she had to bring her service sidearm. Especially since she had been explicitly told she was not, under any circumstances, to use her abilities around civilians after what happened at the circus. Something about 'thousands of American tax dollars going into a meticulous cover up of metahuman activities.' So, as much as she hated it, she had to deal with it.

She tucked the gun into a side holster which concealed it under her jacket. This particular holster she got on loan from requisitions. The stiff leather fought her every step of the way. It was probably designed for a man,which explained the really inconvenient setup. The main strap nestled against her breast a bit too tightly so it rubbed against the underwire of her bra just about every time she moved. She struggled with it but it nothing she did worked. If anything, the strap tightened even further and threatened to cut off her breathing for her trouble. It didn't help either that she had a bruise the size of an apple on her shoulder from her fight with Taskmaster. Clint, however, was too distracted to pay attention to her struggles.

"I'm nervous," admitted Clint, "We don't know who this person is. Yeah, they may have helped us out but that doesn't mean they are a friend of ours. It could be we just share a common enemy."

Evelyn pondered it as she itched her shoulder, "But whoever it is, they want to meet with us. That must mean that they are somewhat friendly. Maybe."

Clint shrugged, "Not sure I share your optimism."

"Just do me a favor," said Evelyn, finally trying to clear the air, "And don't try to shoot them."

Clint groaned, "You still on about that?"

"Yes, I am," she said, feeling miffed, "Clint, I get that… that man did things to you and your brother that are unforgivable. Nobody should be abused like that. But… Nat's right. Just because you get your revenge doesn't make everything better."

Clint continued to avoid eye contact, "I know you're right. It doesn't make me feel any better. Nothing feels… fixed."

"Do you think it would feel fixed if he was dead?"

Clint sighed, "Probably not. I don't know what will make me feel better."

"I don't know either," admitted Evelyn, "But I don't appreciate you jumping down my throat about it when I was just trying to help."

Clint didn't say anything at first. They stood at the bus stop in silence for a little while, waiting for their ride. Finally, Clint spoke up. His voice was so quiet, Evelyn almost missed it.

"You're right," he muttered, "I… I wasn't being very fair to you, was I?"

"No, you weren't. I hope you know I was just looking out for you. You're free to disagree with me but… I do care about you. I was only ever trying to help. And I'm sure Nat feels the same way."

"I know. I think I knew that," he said sheepishly, "You were… you were doing your best."

The bus pulled up. Their conversation had to stop, for now. They paid their fare and took a seat midway up the bus. Evelyn put a hand on Clint's, catching him unawares.

"Thanks, Clint," she said.

"For what?"

"For talking with me about it. For apologizing."

He smiled a little bit, "You're welcome. Thanks for… for looking out for me."

They took their seats and the bus trundled off toward Midtown. Evelyn sat down more gingerly than Clint. She was pretty sure she bruised her tailbone during the fight so standing, sitting, and doing anything in between felt like a red-hot stab in the small of her back. It took a minute of shifting in her seat to find a position which was even sort of comfortable.

They took public transit to meet their contact. That way if they had to scram, they didn't have to leave a car behind. Clint was tense the entire time. Leaving his bow behind bothered him. He was good with a sidearm. That wasn't the problem. The bow acted as his security blanket. If he had it in his hands, he was on his own turf. Without it, he was a little off balance. His foot bounced against the seat, making a tap-tap-tapping noise. The lady a few seats in front of him shot an icy look over her shoulder. Evelyn placed a hand upon his knee and he stopped squirming, finding his composure once more.

"You seem a bit tense," she noted as they disembarked and began the quick walk to their destination.

"We're running late," he fretted, "Never a good idea to leave a contact waiting."

Evelyn checked the clock on her phone. "Relax. We're maybe five minutes late. We can maybe make up the distance if we jog there."

He laughed wryly, "You can. Not all of us are made for long distances."

They walked up to the awning of the pizza place, called Medici's. It smelled delicious, of fresh baked bread and roasted garlic. They stood under the awning. It was red, green, and white, like the Italian flag. There were dozens of people on the street, going about their business. Evelyn tried to pick out one which seemed more obvious than the others but none seemed to stand out.

"How do we know which one is our contact?"

"He didn't say. He just said we would know when we saw-"

He cut himself off to stare off into the distance. Evelyn followed his eyeline into the crowd. A man was walking toward them. Judging by the way Clint stood with his mouth agape in utter disbelief, it seemed obvious they knew each other.

The man was about Clint's height, but a little heavier set. His hair was a bit darker, a dirty blond, including part of a scruffy beard along his jaw. He wore a plaid flannel shirt and jeans. He looked exceptionally ordinarily.

"Hey, Clint," he said, letting an army green backpack slide from his shoulder.

"Barney!"

They stood on opposite sides of the awning, looking at each other. Barney finally spoke, "How're you doing, man?"

Clint looked over to Evelyn. She shrugged, not knowing the response he expected of her. Evidently her response was not what he wanted because he turned back to Barney with incongruity scrawled all over his face, "Dude… really?"

"What?"

"You come back in here after all of this and you are like, 'How you doin'?' Like… like you haven't been missing for months and I didn't just punch Jaques in the face," said Clint, "What the fuck, man?"

"Okay, yeah, to be fair that looks bad. Really bad," conceded Barney, "But, you know, I swear I have an explanation."

"It better be a damn good one!"

Barney looked down and spoke in a humbled tone. "I knew you wouldn't listen to me if I came to you with somethin'. I know I said some things last time we talked that I'm not proud of. And I shouldn't have done that. I know you were pissed at me. But I knew what was going on at the circus just wasn't right. Also, I didn't know if Jaques was still following me. So I had to be careful. 'Specially since he had that scary fucker actin' as his bodyguard. I did my best to try to reach out without paintin' a big, fat target on my chest. I'm just glad it got through to you. And… I'm glad you took care of things."

Clint looked away, arms knotted tightly in front of his body. Barney looked up, eyes wide and pleading at his brother. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck in a way which was so much like Clint, it was almost like a mirror image. "I know you're probably still pissed at me for lotsa things. I was the asshole who got us stuck in this mess with the circus in the first place. But, I just want you to know that you were the reason I wanted to get out. Every day, you go out and you fight against all sorts of shit. And I spent months staring a bad thing in the face and not doin' jack diddly squat about it. Hell, if you could be brave, I think I could do that too."

Clint sighed, "Well, shit. I guess you're… I'm happy you reached out. I shouldn't have given up on you. Maybe we coulda stopped this sooner."

"I think we both fucked up, buddy," said Barney.

The two brothers finally looked each other in the eye. Neither of them would admit it, but they were misty-eyed. Evelyn smiled as they hugged each other, finally reuniting. It was like they were kids again and brothers reunited at long last.

"Should we pop in and grab some pizza?" suggested Evelyn as they stepped back from their embrace, "I'm sure you're really hungry."

"Starvin'," agreed Barney. He turned to look at her properly, eyes flicking up and down her for a split second, "Are you the 'hot redhead' he's told me about?"

Clint blushed furiously red, "Not her. That's another gal. This is Phil's daughter."

Barney looked at him, "How many redheads do you work with? If I didn't know any better, little bro, I'd say you have a fetish or something."

His face turned even redder and he flung the door to the pizza place open, "Can we change the subject, please? Like, something that isn't at my expense?"

Barney ruffled Clint's hair as they walked into the restaurant. "Not on your life, little bro."