Author's Note: I decided to make Clint hearing impaired in this. If it isn't your thing I'm sorry. I know its something the movies didn't really embrace but representation is important and I like what it adds to his character.

...

Chapter Summary:
Barton's woken up but there is no time for the weary to rest.

Chapter 16: Waking Up For War

There were voices. He could catch some of what they were saying but not enough to make sense of it. He was trying to come round, trying to focus well enough to piece it out but he was still too bogged down by dreamland to guess at what was being said. That is until someone slipped his hearing aid into place.

"He should come round up any moment now," was the first distinct sentence Clint heard. Given he was waking up at that moment it felt safe to assume he was the one they were talking about.

"And he'll be alright," he heard Natasha ask from close by.

Her familiar voice made him feel secure enough to reveal he was awake rather than putting it off to see what advantage he could gain. Opening his eyes slightly he blinked against the light.

"Clint?"

He turned towards Nat's voice to find her standing next to his bedside, or rather, next to the gurney he was on. And interesting enough, not restrained to.

After swallowing he greeted her.

"How are you feeling," she asked while turning to get him something to drink.

Clint took a minute to appraise himself. Using the opportunity presented to move into a less vulnerable position he sat up. Stretching a bit he rolled his shoulders, neck, and wrists while he was at it. Given everything he'd been through and however long he'd been out, nothing felt particularly stiff or painful.

While he was going through the motions he was able to feel that the weapons he usually kept strapped against his skin had been removed, presumably at the same time as they'd changed him into a loose cotton top and bottom set. The only other thing of note he came across was a slight pain in his forearm accompanied by a bandage which seemed to point to his having had an IV at some point which had since been removed.

With his assessment concluded Clint took the cup Nat offered him and reported, "Surprisingly good."

Moving Nat put herself in a better position for him to get a look at the two others in the room without his having to be too obvious about it.

Taking a slow drink he gave the two unknowns a quick looking over. Both were wearing those standard Buckler googles and looks that were in line with that lots lax uniform standards. One additionally was wearing a pair of latex gloves and a lab coat. Next to him was an open case displaying equipment, some of which was unrecognizable to Clint but what he was familiar with was decidedly medical in nature. The second was stationed by the door, leaning against the wall which put her firmly between the room and the controls so very possibly a guard.

While this evaluation was happening he asked Nat, "How long was I out?"

She answered readily, "Not long. You were left to sleep off the effects for about forty-five minutes before the Doc gave you something to bring you back around."

Clint's face twitched at that. He'd been expecting it to have been longer.

After another sip he asked, "Loki? He get away?"

Nat nodded, indicating that yes, the bastard had managed to succeed in his escape.

Clint's hand flexed around his cup.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," said the Agent, presumably the Doctor assigned to him, "but now that you are awake Mister Barton there are some things we need to see to."

The way Nat turned cleared a path between Clint and the Doctor but kept her positioned in such a way that if the other two wanted to get at him they'd have to go past her first. That she moved at all without giving him any signals to stay on alert told Clint that she trusted them not to be an immediate threat.

"Sure thing Doc," he allowed. "You are a Doctor right?"

"I am," the Agent confirmed as he sat himself down on the only seating in the room, a minimal metal stool on wheels. Risky, having that in with Clint. If he was looking to do harm he could manage a lot with just that. And no restraints. They really must have been confident he would be back in control of himself when he woke up. Which begged the question of how they could be so sure. A lack of restraints could be a test. Giving him further advantaged on top of that would just be reckless.

Clint smiled, just a touch. "And what do I call you Doc?"

"The only name I am authorized to give is fake so how about we skip the deception and you just call me what you like."

That was a surprising bit of candor coming from someone who worked for an organization just as accustom to secrets and deception as Shield. Granted, it was a commonly held suspicion at Shield that the majority of Buckler used false identities, but it wasn't typical for someone to give up the game like that.

The Doc seemed to know it as he went on to explain. "I am a Doctor and you are my patient. It is my job to help you to the best of my ability. After what you have been through treating you to further manipulation would be counter productive to your recovery."

The guy wasn't being mushy about it or overly heartfelt. As far as Clint could divine he was simply stating the facts. Not that Clint would entirely trust his gut on the matter. Trust was earned and the cost for giving it too freely was high. Clint could count on one hand the people he trusted enough to actually say so.

"You have been subjected to one of the worse violations," the Doc went on to say. Clint sneered at the description though he tried to keep it from being too pronounced. "It is my job to be here for you, to help you recover from this."

"And how are you going to do that," Clint asked a little snide. In his peripheral he saw Natasha looking at him. The guard at the door however kept eyes resting mid distance. An illusion of not paying attention when she couldn't afford him privacy.

The Doctor was studying his face. "Something I said upset you. Could you explain what?"

Clint didn't see why he shouldn't. "'One of the worst violations.' Having someone play with you brain. Making you into something you're not. Being unmade-"

"That isn't what happened to you," the Doc had the audacity to say.

"How would you know," Clint threw back, baring his teeth.

Nat's hand appeared on his shoulder. Not restraining him. Just a reminder that she was there. He had support.

"I know because I understand what was actually done to you," the Doctor said calmly. "And the more power you give it the harder it will be on you going forward."

Clint couldn't believe this bullshit. "What the hell do you think you know?"

"My specialty is helping those who have been subjected to memory tampering, attacks on the mind, autonomy suppression, possession, regression, and modifications to their personalities, as well as what you experiences, manipulation of thought processing and drive. I am intimately familiar with what it looks like when someone is unmade, Mister Barton. That isn't what happened to you. You were not unmade."

"Then what did happen to me," Barton demanded, some less challenging then he had been before as he was distracted by that list the Doc had just rattled off.

"Your base motivations were played upon in order to convince you, without a doubt, that what you wanted was in line with what was wanted of you. Your mind was accessed by the scepter. It then analyzed you, and upon understanding how you worked shifted your thinking to set you in alignment with Loki's aims. It then gave you the knowledge you needed to best achieve these goals."

And that all was something Clint didn't want to believe. Not at all. Because if that was true, then everything he did over the last few days stemmed from him. The lives he took. Shooting at Hill. Attacking Nat. Betraying Shield. The secrets he'd revealed. It would all be his fault.

The Doc's countenance softened. Just some. Just enough. "What you went through was horrific. Your trust in the sanctity of your mind was taken from you. You were manipulated. A temporary structure was implemented into your mind to guide your thoughts and actions off their natural track. Because of this, you did things you never otherwise would have done. But you need to be realistic about it. Language about being unmade, remade, turning into another person is not only inaccurate but harmful. You can't think like that. If you do, you won't be able to shake it. You'll be doubting yourself and whether you are truly free for a long time to come.

"The facts will be your greatest tool in recovery. If you deny them, you are only setting yourself up for a greater struggle to come. I have seen it in others. I have seen it in myself."

Clint squinted at the Doc. His expression read, 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

"As part of my training I was subjected to all methods known only excluding those that leave permeant damage, so I could going through the process of recovering from them myself to experience it for myself. Then, once my training was complete, putting it to use left me vulnerable to being attacked myself through the course of helping my patients."

Clint could only stare at the Doc as he processed the implications of that. He could feel the tension in Nat as she did the same. He noticed the pain in the guard's face, the way she held herself, registered it, then filed it away to come back to later.

He swallowed before asking, "And how do we know it gone? That frame work you talked about. How do we know I'm free of it?"

"Well, most obviously..." The Doc reached into his case and retrieved a small mirror.

Despite the pair of them being an equal distance from him, he handed it over to Natasha rather than giving it directly to Clint. Efficiently Nat checked the mirror over before handing it to Clint. He felt a bit frustrated by them handling him with such care, but he had to admit he felt better taking something from Nat then an unknown.

Holding the mirror up Clint saw his reflection. It took a moment for him to notice what he was meant looking for. Or rather what was meant to take note of for what wasn't there. With no small relief he realized his eyes were back to their natural shade.

"The color fades with the Scepter's influence," the Doc explained. "We theorize this is so those relying on its power will know when its effect lapses. Because -and this is important to understand- while Loki subjected you to the scepter's power he had no control over the results. He had no access to your mind, and no way of knowing when control broke. Only the scepter did."

'What did it show you,' Clint remember Loki asking. He had seemed genuinely curious... like he didn't know.

Turning, Clint caught sight of something on Natasha's face. "Nat?"

She turned to him and he could more see the turmoil she was trying to hide.

Concerned, he asked, What is it?"

"Loki," she said then hesitated. Turning to the Doc she went on with more composure. "He knew things I've only shared with Clint."

She didn't phrase it as a question but it obviously was. She wanted to know how Loki could have known. But she didn't need the Doc to explain.

Lowering his head in shame Clint admitted. "I told him. He asked and I told him... We had a mission. You were the against us. He needed to know what he was up against. At the time, it was as simple as that."

It hurt to say it. Hurt to admit it.

Raising a hand Natasha rest it on his shoulder but Clint couldn't meet her eye.

"And can I assume those weren't the only secrets he got from you," the Doc asked, intruding on what Clint wished could have been a private moment, a private exchange between the two of them.

Feeling sick with himself he snorted. "Not hardly."

"Clint," Nat asked.

And even if he didn't want to, he made himself look up. He could see the worry on her face. Cause his family was her family too. Keeping them safe meant keeping them secret, and keeping them safe mattered almost as much to her as it did to him. Maybe just as much. Maybe more. Even if she was his best friend it didn't mean Nat wasn't still a bit of a mystery even to Clint.

Nodding, he confirmed her worry. A single nod confirmed that Loki knew about Laura and the kids. He could see the truth take hold of her. An outsider could have spotted something was wrong even if they wouldn't know Nat well enough to realize just how effected she was.

As she looked away from him he could see resolve as she crafted plans. Her hand squeezed his shoulder again and Clint got the message. He would be under too much scrutiny to risk reaching out but she would make certain to get word to Laura that they needed to hide. Most likely she'd advise that they do it somewhere Clint didn't know about, only, that wouldn't actually matter. While Loki had asked him if he had a family, the jackass hadn't pried. He'd left no stone unturned with Nat and anything relating to Shield and possible threats, but Loki hadn't dug in on Clint's personal life. He probably hadn't thought it would matter. Or maybe he thought that would be a step too far to push, even with Clint under the scepters control? Clint didn't know and he wasn't planning on asking. He didn't really care what Loki's motivations were. He had other concerns when he came to the 'god.'

Mindful of the fact they weren't alone Clint focused back in on the Doc who was being respectfully quiet but watchful and the other agent who was looking decidedly sympathetic even if she was careful not to look in Clint's direction.

He didn't know what he should say to break the tension, but the Doc seemed to feel comfortable speaking now that attention was back on him.

"Telling Loki. The other things you did. That isn't your fault, but I don't expect you to believe that just yet."

"What do you expect," Clint found himself asking. Cause everyone always expected something. In their line of work that was the one thing you could trust.

"I expect you to answer some questions. Then after, I expect you to get some rest. We will see how things go from there."

Clint ran a hand over his tired face. Even though sleep sounded good he didn't think he wold be able to get it. Not with Loki still out there. Not even if he had been safely locked away. Hell, even if the bastard was in the morgue with enough arrows buried in him to look like a pincushion, sleep probably would have eluded Clint thanks to thoughts about the scepter still out there and the other unknown methods the Doctor spoke of.

Still, best not tell that to the Doc. Clint had been injured enough times to know it was better to just nod and go alone with what the medical professional said until you could slip out of their care. It was just less of a headache that way.

"Ask what you gotta Doc."

The Doctor's first question was one Clint saw coming a mile off. "Do you know where the Tesseract is?"

And from that jumping point followed an interview about what Loki's plans for the future might be. Then going back to the night of Loki's arrival, they worked to cover what had happened since. Nothing got overly personal. This was a debriefing, not a heart to heart. They'd almost finished with it when the Doctor stopped mid word.

"Excuse me," he requested,abruptly heading off for the ensuite bathroom.

From where she was still stationed at his side Nat turned to the agent at the door. Questioningly she raised a brow.

The guard shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable before shutting it down. She smiled, presenting a relaxed joking front and offered, "Maybe lunch didn't agree with him?"

About a second later she twitched, a short glitch in her demeanor before she recovered. Clint would bet good money someone was talking to her over comms. She did a good job of hiding it but it wasn't nearly up to snuff against someone like Clint or Nat for whom noticing things had been life or death for years now.

The pair of them shared a look, communicating without having to say a word.

Not long after he'd entered the Doc emerged from the bathroom. His whole demeanor showed that something had changed in the short time he was tucked away in privacy.

"I'm sorry about this," he explained as he made for his case, "but I'm afraid I have to be going. My services are more immediately needed elsewhere."

The guard at the door didn't react to the news. Not at all. Which was frankly a great big tell that she was prepared for it. Had she been stone faced the whole while they might have been left guessing but her sudden lack of emotion gave it away.

"Its alright Doc," Clint assured him.

Clearly displeased the physician argued, "No, it is not. But its what has to be."

Case now shut and in hand he turned back to Clint. "Someone will be reaching out to arrange future treatment. Most likely it will be with me. But for now, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you in Joan's hands." He gestured to the woman at the door who Clint had marked as a guard but maybe she was also a medical assistant of some sort? Was that why she wasn't overly proficient at the games spies played?

"She a specialist too," Clint asked.

"No, but she can relate to your experience," the Doctor revealed.

Clint's face opened with surprise. In his peripheral he could see Nat gave no sign that this was news to her. Catching him looking, a quirk of her jaw told him she'd explain later.

Clint decided to do a little test. "And is her name really Joan?"

Rather than the Doc answering the women shrugged and said, "I answer to it."

Stepping aside she revealed the controls for the door, lights, and other features of the room.

"Rest, honesty, and autonomy," The Doctor impressed upon her. "As much a you can afford to give him."

Clint liked the sound of that.

'Joan' nodded. "Yes Sir."

Turning back to Clint and Nat the Doctor gave his farewells with a simple, "Mister Barton. Miss Romanoff."

"Doc," Clint returned while Natasha merely nodded her head.

Joan opened the door to let the Doctor out but quickly closed it behind him leaving the three of them sealed in alone. She looked uncertain for a moment as to which direction things should go before she moved to take the chair the Doc had vacated.

For the first time Natasha moved out of a straight attendant posture, seeming to relax. Moving she sat down with Clint on the bed which set her across from Joan. Putting her hands behind her she reclined back slightly. Not only did it push her chest out but it also meant she would be looking up through her lashes going forward. At the same time as she'd done this she crossed her ankles and stretched out her legs which just so happened to put them near to Joan's putting the two woman in close proximity of each other without actually touching.

Nat wasn't smiling or doing anything obviously inviting but the openness of her eyes? The set of her mouth? Clint recognizes when someone was making themselves into a lure and right then, Nat was trying to hook Joan.

Tilting her head towards the door Nat offered, "He seemed nice."

Joan nodded. "Seemed to be."

Nat raised an eyebrow conveying surprise. "You don't know him?"

"Not well."

Grabbing his cup which had been drained and refilled a few times over at this point Clint took a few sips as he watched the two interact. Nat may have appeared at ease but Joan was stiff which wasn't what Nat wanted so rocking her feet to the side she tapped her toe against Joan's ankle. "Not your Doctor then?"

"Not the one that treated me no."

Wanting an answer and knowing it would look odd if he stayed out of the conversation entirely Clint cut in to ask, "How many specialists in mind control does Buckler have exactly?"

"A few," Joan admitted, then sort of wove her head from side to side. "But since it's not just treatment and recovery they oversee they need the numbers."

"What more than recovery is there?"

"Learning to recognize if something is being done," Joan offered. "Learning to fight it off if it is. They are the experts so they're also the ones who teach the rest of us."

Clint zeroed in on her perhaps a bit too intently. "You guys know how to fight off mind control?"

"Depends on the method. Its like the doc said. 'Mind Control' isn't so much just one thing. There are a lot of different ways an outside force can go after a mind and maybe almost as many ways of going about it. With something like the scepter I don't think any amount of training would have helped you. Not against a force strong enough to sustain the effect for days without an active connection or top up," she offered, seeming to know exactly where Clint's thoughts had gone. Though, if she'd been a victim too, he supposed she might have a good instinct for what he was thinking about.

"What did it look like for you," Clint asked.

Joan hesitated, taking the time to figure out exactly what she wanted to say. Which, would be useful to her keeping her from saying something she shouldn't. Which is exactly why Nat spoke up, interrupting while taking the pressure off by offering up, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

And with that concession Joan was a bit less on guard.

Doing his part Clint gave her his best 'Please, I need to understand' eyes.

After a deep breath she explained, "My attacker worked for months to establish a connection between us. Along with the bond, there were times he would use it to sort of... put me under. I'd be in a state where I wasn't really me but I wasn't really him either. I was just... there, doing whatever he wanted. And when I came out of it, I'd have no memory of that time. But since it was at night, I mostly didn't noticed I was missing anything. Once I did, I tried to get away, but the bond drove me back."

"Why did he target you," Nat asked. "What was he after?"

"He didn't really want anything with me specifically. He just needed someone he could sacrifice for what he wanted."

Nat leaned forward. Gently she coaxed. "And what did he want?"

Joan shook her head. "I doesn't matter. He didn't get what he was after," but the resentment in her voice said it hadn't been a clean cut victory. "He did almost succeeded though. A few minutes more and it would have been too late. I would have died."

Nat rest her foot against Joan's pulling her out of her memories. She got a grateful smile for it which she returned with a soft genuine one of her own. Even if Nat did feel sympathy and maybe even liked this girl Clint would bet this move was calculated. The best lies were built on truths. Letting herself connect and feel would mean it wasn't an act. If it wasn't an act it would be easier to believe and harder on Nat when she had to shut those feeling down or betray the confidence later. Clint had helped her through the fallout of that kind of play before.

Voice soft Nat asked, "What happened to him?"

"Killed to break his connection to me," Joan said. Grimacing she went on. "At least I thought he'd died. Spent a few years comforted by the thought that he wasn't out there anymore. Turns out he found a way to come back from it though. A few years later he revealed himself."

Nat's brows were furrowed. Her lips pursed. "How young were you when it started?"

Joan didn't immediately answer.

Clint smiled, all easy going humor. "You don't look that old, so it couldn't have been to long ago. Bucklers not robbing cradles for recruits, are they?"

Joan's lips quirked back at him. Clint almost felt bad about it. She was so obviously a newbie who knew she shouldn't readily go making friends with them but given she had to reach out to Clint to offer support about what he experienced she couldn't help getting lulled into feeling like they had a rapport going, cause they did. It was just one that was being fostered with some selfish intentions on the side of Nat and Clint.

"This was all before I joined Buckler," Joan explained, answering without revealing too much.

Nat tilt her head looking like she was trying to figure something out. "And it was Director Smith who saved you?"

Clint didn't know where she'd gotten that from but if it was true it implied Smith had been dealing with things like this before her appointment to Buckler as according to Shield's records that had only come sometime after the organization had completely severed itself from Shield after Thor's last visit to Earth only June the year before.

The way Joan's expression closed off showed that wasn't a path they should pursue even if she did answer, "Yeah. It was."

Changing course Clint said, "Sounds like there were some big differences between your experience and mine."

Reaching up he rubbed at his eye which only made the irritation it was experiencing worse.

Joan replied, "A few."

Sighing Clint brought his cup up to rest against his left eye and immediately felt some relief thanks to the chill of it. He felt Natasha shift, turning her attention to him, and there for both their attention wasn't wholly on Joan taking her out of the hot seat while giving her something to think about beyond what she was saying.

"I suppose that means our treatments will be just as different." Shifting the cup Clint placed on the right eye but kept the left open. Blinking he brought Joan into focus which probably looked demented which worked fine for him. Not intimidating at all image at all. Just a guy who'd been through a lot and was looking for some answers. Wanting the info she had to give as they related to what he'd been through rather than an outside agent digging for information.

"Not really," she answered casually. "Your treatment and mine will look a lot alike."

"How's that," Nat asked as she got up heading for the pitcher of water that was resting on a tray by the bed.

"First stage of treatment is removing the hold of whatever's interfering. Since you are already free you'll be moving right in on the second phase which is pretty much the same across the board."

"So what am I looking at," Clint asked. Not that he was planning on going along with these treatments, whatever they might be. He wasn't keen on the idea of handing himself over to people who possessed methods of putting him back under someone else's control. If Shield tried to push it he might finally give into what Laura had been wanting and move off active duty.

Nat traded him his cup for the pitcher which was not only colder but the curve fit better against his eye.

"Talk therapy," Joan offered up.

A tad incredulous Clint repeated, "Talk therapy? Somebody uses magic to mess with my head and the answer is talking about it?"

"With someone who understands, yeah. Any intervention would mean violating your mind again, subjecting you to further trauma, and potentially compounding the problem. So, it's only used on desperate cases. When someone needs another person to go in to put the pieces back together or get rid of what shouldn't be. Help fill in the gaps left behind. Get the mind out of whatever hell its trapped in."

"Doesn't sound pretty."

"It's really not." Joan gave a little shiver but tried to hide it by rolling her shoulders.

Off to the side Nat was facing the wall. Her arms were crossed. Her hands cupped her elbows. It was as close to holding herself as she'd allow around most people. Joan was too in her own head to notice but Clint did.

Shaking off her upsets Joan tried to be more positive. "Thankfully, that won't be an issue for you. The scepter was strong enough that it didn't need to fight its way in to establish itself and left cleanly. No damage done." She winced. "At least not physically or to the structure of you mind. Some of the worse harm can happened if the influence fights against removal, but all you needed was sleep. Once you were under the scepters presence started getting flushed out all on its own."

"That's it," Clint asked. "That's all it took? You guys didn't do something extra?"

He looked to Nat.

"All it took was Joan knocking you out," she confirmed while revealing Joan's part.

Shaking his head Clint shelved that for later. "Thanks."

Joan accepted, "You're welcome."

"So what comes after phase 2?"

"Learning to defend your mind."

Nat was frowning. "Why wait?"

"It seems like something you should learn sooner huh? Its hard to recover from trauma if you don't feel safe, but unless the situation is really desperate no one responsible would go about teaching you until they know you're in a good place for it. Cause, once you have an understanding of the theoretical the only way to progress is to be attacked, repeatedly. They can teach you what you should do but its hard to put into effect unless you can feel what works and doesn't to know if you've gotten it right. Which means attacking which could be triggering and damaging. Then the added bonus of a new violation if you fail which you will, because part of you will be so stressed about the possibility that you won't be able to focus properly." Judging by Joan's expression she'd failed plenty while she was learning. "Then, for more fun, there are some methods where the only way to build enough strength to make them effective is to endure attacks successfully over and over, like working a muscle. All around phase three sucks."

"You got through it though," Nat said.

A bit proud Joan agreed, "I did."

Nat gave her a smile.

Frowning Clint asked, "How long did that take exactly?"

Moving away from her personal experience Joan told him, "It depends on your natural talent and how far you want to go."

"Aiming for general competence, what am I looking at? A few days, weeks, months-"

"Years," Joan cut in. "Realistically you're looking at years."

"Years," Nat repeated, obviously disturbed. She wasn't the only one.

Misunderstanding the source of their upset Joan explained, "It will take awhile to heal and sort out your head about what happened. Then once training starts, having already suffered an attack generally makes it harder to learn which will add months onto the process if you're really dedicated." So possibly more than months if you don't have the opportunity to focus fully on the training.

And while that was interesting to know it wasn't why the accounting of years was upsetting to both Nat and Clint. If it took years to learn to defend the mind then Buckler had to have known about mind control and the practices for avoiding it going back years. Unless they had a source to learn from they were breaking ground themselves. How long would they have had to know to have experts about more than one type? How long had they had access to this information and techniques? Why hadn't they shared it with Shield? How had they hidden it? And more importantly, what had they been doing with those capabilities?

Their best shot at answers was leaving Nat to do her thing with Joan. One on one she had a better chance of gaining information. Which meant Clint needed to get out of the way. He couldn't exactly excuse himself for a wonder around the helicarrier given that Joan was here to be watching him. That left one place for him to go.

Reaching into the pitcher, Clint scooped up a handful of water and splashed his face then scrubbed his wet hand down his neck.

Helping him along with what he was trying to do Nat asked, "When was the last time you showered?"

"Too damn long," he lamented which it was very much true. He had eaten and taken care of other basics while under Loki's thumb but only the things which were needed to continue functioning at his best. Showering hadn't been necessary. Making his way to facilities where he could without showing up on Shield's radar would have been a distraction. Sparing the water to clean their hands had been the limit when it came to washing up.

"There's a shower in the bathroom isn't there," Joan asked, her question slotting nicely into Clint's goal.

"Am I cleared for a shower?"

"Physically you're only suffering from a lack of sleep and a few bruises from your tussle with Romanoff."

Clint and Natasha both raised an eyebrow at the description of their confrontation as a 'tussle'.

"So long as you feel up to it you're free to move about," Joan assured.

Standing, Clint returned the pitcher to its tray. "Then I'm off to get a shower."

"I'll send for your things," Natasha assured him, meaning the weapons that had been liberated off him. She knew he could walk around in his birthday suit and still not feel as naked as he did being unarmed. Still. What they'd gotten him into was little better than pjs, so frowning Clint pinched the shirt he was wearing and pulled it away from his body.

"And some real clothes," he requested letting it fall back.

Nat teased him, "You don't think it would go with your bow?"

Amused, Joan smirked.

Clint rolled his eyes. Heading for the shower he waved over his shoulder. Calling back he said, "And don't forget shoes."

As soon as he was through to the bathroom he closed the door behind him. There was no lock so he'd have to live with the lack of it. Moving to the stall he flipped the shower on reasoning the sooner Joan felt they were alone the sooner she'd setting in with Nat. Moving over to the sink to he settled himself there for a look in the mirror.

Again it was a relief to see his eyes back to their natural blue without the icy glow the scepter had given them. Leaning forward he peeled back his eye lids to check them over properly, looking to see if even the smallest shard of something else was left behind. He maybe spent longer on it then he should have because he was still standing there at the mirror when Nat knocked.

"Yay," he called.

Taking that for the permission it was Nat slipped into the room, a bundle of clothes and weapons in hand. She looked him over with a keen eye as she moved to place them on the floor.

Holding his gaze in the mirror she asked, "You good?"

"Not even close," he admitted.

They continued to stare at each other through their reflections trusting the other to know what they would say if they felt secure enough to speak freely. Finally, Natasha blinked.

"Get that shower," she ordered him before turning to leave.

Scrubbing at his face Clint figured she was right and he should get on with it.

Showering wasn't a big affair. He didn't languish drowning in his emotions or relax under the hot spray letting himself forget. That wasn't happening on the helicarrier, Buckler Agent outside the door or not. He stripped down. He got in. He got clean. He got out. He dried off. Dressing took longer than all the rest of it as he had to put on all his kit including a variety of hidden blades and arrow heads.

As he put himself together he listening in on Natasha and Joan talking. Nat was sharing some stuff she never usually talked about. Recounting from her days when she was trained into becoming what was wanted of her. Comparing his own experience to hers, then thinking back on what he said about being remade, Clint realized the Doc had been right. That isn't what had been done to him. He'd still been him. Nat though, Nat couldn't even remember who she was before. Couldn't imagine who she might have grown up to be without careful grooming of the Black Widow program.

Opening up about it would show all three of them were connected. Her, Joan, and Clint. It also was a perfect excuse for Nat to ask about what Joan had experienced and what Buckler knew. But there were other ways she could have gone about it. Other safer stories she could have used. And even with these stories, she didn't have to be very forthcoming about it. Instead of speculating as to why Clint told himself he could ask later and settled in by the door to loiter in the bathroom eavesdropping. He'd left the shower running to give him cover for why he was still in there but the sound of the door from the hall opening had him finally shutting off the spray.

"Time to go," a new voice said.

It was Nat that asked, "Go where."

"I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?"

She could but it didn't stop Clint from coming out of the bathroom to offer up, "I can."

He only needed to see a flash of that uniform and face to recognize Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. And boy, what a suit it was. Clint was going to enjoy ribbing Coulson about arranging to put one of the greatest soldiers of all time into that custom made monstrosity. It looked more like the get up they'd put Rogers in for his stage shows than anything he ever actually worn in the field.

Widening his attention from just Cap, Clint noted Joan looking him over with a disgruntled frown. She'd obviously realized there was no way his hair could be so dry and his dress if he'd only stepped out of the shower when the sound of the water cut off. Fair was fair. Having been caught out Clint gave her a wink before focusing back on the Captain who had been busy looking at Nat for confirmation either that Clint was clear of Loki's influence or up for whatever was going down. Probably both.

"You got a suit," Cap asked.

"Yeah."

"Then suit up," he commanded. Rogers was all ready to make a quick exit with nothing more than that but Joan wasn't having it.

"Excuse me," she said standing up from her stool. "Right now Barton is my responsibility. I'd like to know where exactly you think you're taking him?"

"Technically it sounds like I'll be the one taking him," Clint said. At Joan's look he elaborated, "Me being the pilot and all."

She gave him a perfectly unimpressed look before turning it on the good Captain.

It was obvious Cap wanted to save any lengthy explanations for later but he wasn't willing to just walk away. Instead he remained, loitering in the doorway as he answered, "We think we have a lead on Loki."

"That's great," Joan threw back sincerely. "But what's that have to do with Barton?"

Clint could see where this was going. A shared look with Nat showed she did too. Joan was planning on taking her duties seriously. The Doctor had ordered rest. Running off on a mission with Captain America wasn't likely to be restful. Which was a shame, because if Clint had a chance to go after Loki he wasn't going to let it pass. He really hoped he wouldn't have to take Joan down to get her out of his way.

Cap didn't seem to understand just yet and asked, "Ma'am?"

"If the lead pans out a team will be dispatched just like it was before. Loki will be taken into custody by a fresh crew who are ready for this. Barton isn't. No offense," she offered him. His let his face show he did take offense but she only rolled her eyes before turning back to Cap. "He's been awake for days. He needs rest."

"There isn't time to wait," the Captain said.

"He's right," Clint agreed. "Loki's making his play soon. Today."

"Okay, great," Joan said slow, not understanding what they weren't getting about the situation. "But again, it's not like Clint is needed. There are other people to send in."

"Not like us," Nat told her moving for the door.

It was clear Joan had something she wanted to say to that but didn't know how to say it without being rude. She missed her chance to find the words though as Cap and Nat were heading out. Moving around Joan Clint followed them.

He heard her huff before moving to fall in line with him. When Clint sent her a look she said, "You're my responsibility."

"You're not going to try handcuffing me to the bed then?"

Joan's lip curled flirtatiously. She teased, "Not during working hours," gaining a quick look from the Captain who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Clint really wasn't interested but he sent an appreciated smile back at Joan regardless.

Shaking that mood off she turned to face ahead. "Rest, honesty, and autonomy, remember? If I force you to stay I'm taking away your choice. So long as you're not hurting yourself or others I'm not going to interfere."

His smile became more genuine for hearing that.

"But I'm not letting you slip off. You're stuck with me."

"It's going to be dangerous," Cap pointed out.

Speeding up to get level with him and Nat, Joan replied with sass, "Cause the Hulk running around, bullets flying, and us nearly falling out of the sky wasn't? Besides. It's not like this is a solo mission."

Clint couldn't see it but judging by Joan's reaction Cap's face had given something away.

"You have reported this in haven't you?" Not waiting for an answer she reached up for her earpiece. "Command, have you gotten any Intel from Rogers or Shield regarding Loki's possible location or that of the Tesseract?"

Despite being circumvented like this the good Captain didn't falter in his stride. Nat upped her pass just enough to stand slightly in the lead, guiding him to the armory where they would be able to suit up fully for what was coming.

"Seriously," Joan asked incredulously. Clint assumed whatever response she'd gotten had been towards the negative. "You're working with one of the best organizations in the world. People, weapons, and resources all right at hand to get things done and you ignore that to go it alone?"

"Shield," Cap started to say but Joan cut him off.

"I'm not talking about Shield." Clint really didn't care for the hint of derision that came with her naming the organization he worked for. "I'm talking about Buckler. It's our job to deal with things like Alien invasions. We've got plans and protocols and more aces up our sleeves than you can probably imagine, ready to be deployed for precisely this kind of situation. But no. No, why not keep it to yourself. What could possibly go wrong there?"

That was obviously a rhetorical question.

"This is what Buckler does," Joan stressed. "Why do people keep trying to undermine that. First Thor, his hammer, the Destroyer, and a whole town nearly wiped off the map. Then Loki-"

"What about Loki?"

"Well, first off Shield didn't even want to share with Buckler that anything had happened. Next Shield didn't report they had a suspected location for Loki. Instead they sent you and Natasha off to bring him in despite the handling of Loki clearly being our jurisdiction. Then, once we, Buckler, had captured him the plan was to take Loki to one of our facilities but Shield bullied in again. If they hadn't and we'd been allowed to handle it properly I can tell you he wouldn't have been getting out."

"You added your own measures to his cell," Nat pointed out, not defensive but digging.

"Travel restraints. Not an actual proper containment facility. Besides, that's not even the point. Loki had compromised Shield Agents on his side. Not Buckler Agents."

"They should have known it wasn't the best option," Clint offered in agreement. "I know the lay out of all the carriers, I know Shield, and I know how we operate."

"Exactly," Joan said. "If they'd been thinking logically Loki never would have come here. Shield never would have been involved. Instead it was all posturing and politics. From the beginning Shield resented Buckler becoming independent. They wanted back the authority and purview they lost with us moving out from under them. And how much do you want to bet that when this is all over they shift the blame onto us to try to get Buckler shut down the same as they'd have claimed any successes for the same purpose."

Cap, Clint noticed, was looking to him and Nat to see how they would react to this accusation. When neither of them tried to deny it his face took on a proper scowl.

They'd arrived at the armory by then. As he and Nat had both already been mostly geared up there wasn't much for them to grab as the talking went on behind them.

"So what lead is it you think you have on Loki?"

"Loki needs a power source to feed the cube."

"Yes, we have a list, but there are too many options to put them all under guard."

"Stark thinks he knows which one Loki will go for."

"...And," Joan pushed when Cap wasn't immediately forthcoming.

"Stark Tower in New York. There's-"

"The arc reactor. More than enough power for what Loki needs." Reaching up for her earpiece Joan called, "Command," before walking a short distance away for privacy.

"Why does Stark think that's Loki's play," Natasha asked.

"He believes Loki wants to make this personal."

"With the public thinking you're long dead Iron Man's hailed as Earth's greatest living Hero," Clint offered.

"Seeing the attack start there would demoralize some," Nat agreed. "It being New York means it wouldn't take long for news to spread globally either."

"With some of the questions he was asking," Clint trailed off considering it more thoroughly.

When he'd finished Cap was looking at him expectantly.

"It makes sense," he said lending his support to the idea.

"Someone would like to talk to you," Joan said pulling their attention back to her but only for it to be diverted to the armory door immediately after by the sound of knocking. Walking over Joan opened the way revealing three Buckler goggle wearing Agents. Unlike her this triad gave off a vibe of experience and made the part of Clint's brain that was always looking for threats perk up.

Reaching out, the one on point handed a tablet over to Joan.

"Thank you," she replied before heading over to Steve. Holding up the tablet so he could see the sleeping screen she tapped to wake it up. Coming around the screen filled with a video feed. Sat within frame was a face Clint hadn't seen in a while.

Confused, Cap asked, "Peggy?"

"Steve," she returned smiling. Looking past him her smile faded as she nodded to Nat and Clint in turn. "Agent Romanoff. Agent Barton."

The two nodded back with murmurs of "Councilwoman."

"Peggy... what are you doing here," Steve asked.

Clint was tempted to make a crack about how she wasn't actually there but restrained himself.

"Buckler has put me in charge of operations in New York."

"New York?"

"We had information that lead us to believe something would be happening there and deployed forces accordingly in preparation. We've already redirected one of our teams on the ground to investigate your suspicions about Stark Tower. We'll have an idea soon if Loki or the Tesseract are indeed at Stark Tower."

Some of the tension leaked out of the Captain. "Oh."

His slumping was kept to a minimal though. It couldn't last long. Not with the news the Council Woman delivered next.

"Sadly, even if we do find them we have reason to believe it will be too late. The readings we are getting suggest the Tesseract has already been engaged. Given how little we understand of the artifact or how precisely Loki intends to utilize it there is every possibility we won't be able to shut if down. Not safely at least. We very much expect that this will come down to a fight. If you're willing, I'd feel better knowing you're there.

"We're on our way," Cap assured.

Peggy smiled at him. "I'm glad to know you're willing, but there is something we have to make clear first."

The good captain looked uncertain. "And what's that?"

"Buckler is in charge here. There is a plan and we can't afford people going off to do as they like. If you're coming, you're going to need to listen to what I tell you. The first of which is you won't be going after Loki." Frowning Clint took a step forward drawing Carter's attention. Looking him dead in the eye she said, "The battlefield isn't a time for vendettas. We already have people assigned to deal with Loki. If you're going to take part in this your priority will be to assist in evacuations."

"With all due respect, there has to be a better use for our skills," Clint denied as Nat moved over to stand at his side.

"The sooner we have the area cleared the more resources we can bring to bear. We can't risk shooting off the big guns over civilian heads."

Clint scowled. It wasn't that he disapproved of the work, but it wasn't what he wanted to be doing.

"This is the agreement. You promise to follow your orders as given and you're in. You can have a part in this fight. We have a jet waiting to take you. But if you can't work with us you are not wanted here. We will stop you from leaving if necessary."

Looking to the door Clint could see the triad all had a hand on their weapons.

"Fine," he answered.

Next to him Nat nodded her own agreement.

"I trust you," Steve told the Council Woman.

Accepting their word, Carter asked, "Joan?"

Turning the tablet around to face her Joan replied, "Yes ma'am."

"Do I have your word on the same?"

Joan's face was resolved. "Yes, ma'am."

"Martin?" The Buckler agent on point of the triad focused in on the tablet which Joan tilt in his direction. "Bring them in."

"Yes, Councilwoman," he said.

"We'll see you soon," Carter concluded, nodding to someone off screen. The feed was cut.

"Here," 'Martin' said, taking a tablet from one of his men and throwing it to Nat before taking a second from the other and tossing it to Clint. Once it was in their hands the screens came to life displaying what looked to be a debrief.

"What is this," Steve asked looking down at Joan's tablet as she manipulated the image displayed, pulling it up out of the screen to become a holographic 3D diagram depicting something that was decidedly alien.

"That," Martin proclaimed. "Is the Chitauri."