Thank you all so much for being patient with me! Real life has gotten crazy and my laptop and I haven't had as much quality time as I'd like. But here is Chapter 5, and Chapter 6 should be up soon as well. Enjoy some great Shakespeare cribbing in the second part!

Clint had the soul of a soldier and the mind of a sniper. He would lay down his life for his team, sacrifice himself to save a civilian, kill one man to save thousands. He could clear his mind of everything except the mathematical dance of ballistics, windage, air density. He could sit, body still and mind focused for days on end waiting for his quarry. Yet, as he pulled the Quinjet level with the Helicarrier, his mind was full of the wind-whipped hair and solemn blue eyes of Darcy Lewis, watching him from the launchpad. He pondered the sound of her voice as he landed the jet, he contemplated the fall of her dark curls as he shut down the engines and unstrapped himself, he speculated on the words they might exchange as he followed his team down the familiar corridors.

All those thoughts, however, were chased away by the horror of the fight they found aboard the carrier. It seemed as if not much could shock the Avengers these days, not after the Chitauri and the worm-hole of Certain Destruction, or Dr. Doom and his I-like-to-attack-New-York-when-the-Fantastic-4-are-on-holiday Doombots, or even the oddly helmeted AIM troopers, not to mention that one time with the weird squid thing they agreed to never talk about. But there was something horrifyingly shocking about whatever it was that had infiltrated the Helicarrier. Invisible and fast, they (it?) seemed to be everywhere, knocking everyone around like rag-dolls, scoring deep cuts into steel bulkheads and people alike.

Cap was calling out orders left and right, trying to instill order in the Avengers and Shield agents, the paint on his shield marred but the metal beneath un-marked. Nat was a red-headed blur, but he could see from the odd twist she made each time she landed that she had taken a hit. Tony was dashing around the ship, claiming he could almost see the attackers, but if his aim was any indication, he was as blind as the rest of them. After the third time Clint watched a fellow Shield agent killed by unseen assailants, he tucked his bow over his back and dashed down to the equipment room. He'd seen Predator. There had to be thermal imaging goggles in there somewhere!

He found them, two pairs, and slipped one over his eyes. His world fell into a kaleidoscope of colors, but it seemed to work, as there was suddenly a very elongated humanoid shape in front of him. He shot at it with his handgun, the bullets finding the white heat of the heart (oddly low) and then the brain (in the correct spot) with unerring precision. He informed Stark, who responded with a passible "Get to da choppa!" before Clint dropped into a ventilation shaft that led him to Cap's position. Thor and Steve were curious where he had come up with such a brilliant idea, and Clint couldn't decide if a team movie night featuring invisible aliens hunting humans for sport was artfully ironic or just crazy. Hitting the floor of the command center with a thunk, Clint tossed the goggles to Cap, then disappeared to find a higher perch.

He'd like to say that his quick thinking had turned the tide of the fight, but there were only two goggles and Stark's suit, so most of the team and all of the agents were fighting blind. Clint called out locations as quickly as he could, but the fuckers were fast! It was from his perch near the top of the command center that he watched Nat take on one of the creatures alone, without any visual cues. She landed some great hits of her own, and Clint did try to help, sending out a bullet or an arrow when the opportunity arose, but clean shots were few and far between. He couldn't see his target without the heat sensing goggles, but the goggles blurred the forms of the creature and Nat, not to mention the handful of other agents in the room. It was an all around suck-fest.

When he saw Nat's body fly through the air and smash into the wall, it was only decades of training that kept him from jumping down to her aid. He instead took the opportunity to sink two arrows into the skull of the creature that had done it. Small victories.

The battle only finally ended when a small portal opened in a maintenance hatch on deck E-6 and the invisible creatures turned tail and ran for it. Their dead also vanished and Stark was cursing a blue streak about it when the team regrouped near Natasha's now medic attended body.

"How the fuck am I supposed to safe-guard against shit I can't even see? I needed those corpses for research!" The faceplate was up and Tony looked unharmed, although the suit would need a complete overhaul. One leg joint was even spitting out sparks.

"It is magic, friend Stark. Magic of a most foul origin," Thor advised sagely.

Steve peeled off his helmet, sticky with his own blood as Clint sank down in a crouch near Nat. The adrenaline of battle was wearing off and he was suddenly very aware of numerous cuts and sore spots on his body. Reaction was setting in and his hands started to shake and his eyes watered as his brain started to process the emotions of battle. He hated this part, the reckoning of the dead, the tallying of wounds. He wanted to touch Nat, to make sure for himself that she was still breathing, still alive. Instead he clenched his jaw and knuckled the dampness out of his eyes.

"I shall away to Asgard. There is something about this attack that I do not like." Thor stepped away from the group and flew off with a crack of lightning.

"Let's get down to Shield HQ. They're going to want all of us through medical before we debrief." Steve looked like shit as he spoke, and Clint knew that if Cap looked that bad, he must look like death warmed over. Damn aliens and damn magic.

Her eyes were swollen and red and still leaking tears that rolled down her salt covered cheeks, but Darcy couldn't care less. Her focus was solely on the still, pale form of her best friend lying on the hospital bed. She wasn't sure even now, hours after she was allowed in the room to sit vigil, what happened to bring the indestructible Black Widow low. She was covered in bruises and cuts, and if the images of her skull pinned up on the walls were any indication, they're worried about her brain too.

A slight knock on the doorframe broke the silence. "Darcy, have you been crying all this time?" Clint's voice echoed in the still air of the hospital room.

"Yes, and I'll cry for a bit longer," she wearily snapped back. All thoughts of her promises of eighteen hours ago to be kind, sweet and helpful were gone from her head.

"I wish you didn't have to." His voice was gentle and kind, and as he stepped farther into the room, she got her first look at him since he took off in the Quinjet. His face and exposed lower arms were covered in the same bruises and cuts as Natasha, a particularly nasty gash on his temple had been stitched closed. He leaned wearily against the bed, a slight wince crossing his face as wounds hidden beneath his clothing pulled.

"It's not your fault, I do it freely," she responded, tempering her voice with their shared sadness.

"I'm worried about her too." He looked down at his long-time partner for a moment, giving Nat's arm a squeeze just above where Darcy held her hand.

Darcy dropped her head back onto her arm on the bed. "I just wish I could do something," she mumbled into the scratchy blanket. "Heal her, help you all fight, do anything!" Her words were met with a long silence, so she shifted slightly to look up at Clint, standing over her, watching with his storm-cloud eyes.

He shook his head slightly and licked his full lips before speaking quietly. "I love nothing in this world as much as you. Is that weird?" His voice was full of wonder and the slightest bit of trepidation.

"It would be possible for me to say I love nothing in this world as much as you too." Her words came out fast, breathy. Darcy couldn't tell what is bubbling up inside of her... terror, elation, love, worry. She started to sob again, words spilling out through her tears. "But don't believe that. Not that I'm lying or anything. I'm just not saying that. Not that I'm not not saying it. I'm... I'm just so worried about Natasha!"

Clint crouched down in front of her at eye level, a smile puling at the corner of his mouth despite their current surroundings. "You love me, Darcy."

"Don't say things like that now if you're just going to regret it later." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, years of being second choice and 'not-quite-good-enough' forcing her to give him an out. To take the words back before they could really mean anything.

Clint somehow seemed to understand though, his eyes capturing her's and holding them, his voice low and gentle, but forceful with emotion. "I'll say it now, and later, and forever. I love you."

"Then forgive me," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and allowing a smile to break through her tears.

"For what?" He asked, taking her free hand in his.

"For not saying it first. I was still trying to find the words to tell you. You just... beat me to it, I guess." She pulled her other hand free from Natasha's cold one to wrap it around Clint's warm ones.

"Then say it and stop protesting so much." The roguish rebel-hero smirk was back on his face as he teased her.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest!"

"Poetic," he murmured as he leaned forward and captured her mouth with his.