Chapter 9

New York's airports were packed. Hawkeye had expected that. Between the people hoping to see real, albeit dead, aliens, people on their way to search for possibly lost loved ones, and the volunteers coming to help clean up the war zone that the battle with the Chitauri had left behind, trying to find one small group would be nearly impossible even with the correct flight information. So Hawkeye had done the one thing that he could to make himself as visible as possible – he'd worn his battle gear.

Now Fury hadn't given him or the other Avengers any orders to stay under the radar, and honestly, he didn't think that any of them would have been able to do that even if he had. It had been Pepper who had pointed out to them that being seen helping out with the cleanup, in uniform, would generate positive publicity for the Avengers – which was going to be needed, considering the amount of damage the battle had done to the city and that people would be looking for someone to blame. Most of them had been uneasy about it, (Cap had actually groaned, although only Clint had heard it), but had admitted that she was right. So they had all, except Thor who wouldn't leave his brother, taken turns to go out and help. Their faces, all of their faces, even Cap's, were all over the net and television because of the reporters who'd shown up when they'd hit the streets, not that he'd known about the YouTube videos of the battle until he'd called his brother. (He'd thought that the civilians had been too busy running to get any footage of that. He should have counted on someone being a moron though.) They hadn't talked to the reporters. Clint wasn't that stupid, and had made sure that Cap had been warned about the vultures. Actually, he kind of thought that he hadn't been the only one to give Steve a warning from the look of irritation Rogers had given him.

The good news about the media exposure was that Clint didn't even have to show his badge to enter the terminal. The security guards waved him through, not even asking him to check his weapons at the security gate. When he made it to the proper gate, he climbed up and perched on the back of a seating area circling a thick column. Not only did this give him a clear line of sight above the crowds and made certain that he could be seen, but it also kept his weapons out of the reach of anyone who might be tempted to touch and risk their lives by trying to steal those same weapons. Most of the adults he could count on not to be stupid, but there was always an idiot around somewhere, and he didn't want to tempt any of the kids he could see. When one of the kids did reach for him, Clint's hand struck out, grabbing the boy's wrist before it could connect. The boy's mother gasped when she saw Clint holding her son. "Not a good idea, kid. You could get hurt," Clint said mildly.

"Are you one of the Avengers, Mr. Archer?" the little boy asked.

"Yes, I am," Clint said, as he let the boy go. "My name is Hawkeye." He absentmindedly calculated how close the boy had gotten to the knife strapped to his calf, but let the thought go as the boy's face lit up.

"Thank you for shooting the bad aliens, Mr. Hawkeye!" he exclaimed.

Clint smiled. "You're welcome. What's your name?"

"My name is Bobby, and that's my mom, and my sister, Mary," the child said, pointing out the dark haired woman burdened with a little blond girl as well as the expected carry-ons. Mary was looking over her shoulder and paying no attention to her brother.

"I'm sorry, sir," Bobby's mother said, shifting the carry-on bags higher on her shoulder.

"No trouble, as long as he doesn't touch my gear. That's stuff that only grownups should touch," Hawkeye told Bobby with a wink and a grin.

Mary was the only one not paying attention. The rest of the crowd was staring for as long as they could, most of them only catching a glimpse before the push of so many people had them moving away. "Mommy, is that a mutant or an alien?" Mary asked, suddenly pointing to what she had been staring at.

Clint looked up. Mary was pointing at Mathew. "That is a baby alien. I'm here to pick him up so that he can go see his grandma without people getting upset because of the space whale aliens," he informed them.

He could see his brother quirk up an eyebrow at his announcement, but Mary wanted to know. "If he's a baby, how come he's so big?"

"Well, he's so big because his people, who are called the Jotuns, grow up to be as tall as Hulk. Did you get to see Hulk smash those space whales?" Clint asked her, throwing a punch in the air to demonstrate.

"Uhuh! and he catched Iron Man too!" she said excitedly.

"Hawkeye did better than that! He shot the bad aliens with a bow and arrows and he didn't even look and they still got blown up!" Bobby defended his hero. "He's AWESOME!"

"Black Widow is better!"

"No she's not! She's a GIRL!"

Their mother broke in with an expression of long suffering. "They're both awesome. They went to help when everyone else was running away. That's what makes them heroes. Now you have to stop fighting over which one is better."

"Because which one of us is better depends on what needs to be done," Hawkeye broke in. "Black Widow and I are partners. We work together. We have different skill sets and we each have different jobs to do. Black Widow gets up close and she can, and has, kicked my backside when it comes to hand to hand fighting. (That was aimed at Bobby, and all the more important because it was true. He'd have been fighting on the other side if it hadn't been.) I'm a better shot than she is, especially at long range shots, so I get up in a tall place so that I can see everywhere I need to shoot. (That was for Mary. No need for him to be too modest.) Our skills work best when we help each other." Both kids stared wide eyed, the very idea a shock to their sibling rivalry based competition. Their mother mouthed 'Thank you' and Clint grinned again. Little things like this were what made going out in public worth it in his mind. "Now, I've got to go. Be good for your mom, ok?" Both children nodded and finally allowed the crowd to sweep them away.

Clint climbed down off the awkward looking couch and swept Mathew out of his father's arms. "What do you say, little guy? You ready to go and meet your grandma?"

'There was a reason why the Midgardians had believed that Helheim was the land of the dishonored dead, and it wasn't because the landscape was boring,' Sif thought as she huddled in Sleipnir's saddle behind Queen Frigga. The young warrior made his careful way down a torturous path towards an encampment of dwellings huddled at the foot of the mountain pass. The land was no better than Jotun, the land of the Frost Giants, an eternal wasteland of ice. If it wasn't for her majesty and Sleipnir, Sif was certain she would have frozen to death within the first hour of her arrival. Winter was NOT the time to be visiting here, but Queen Frigga had more than reason enough to visit, and enough magic to ensure their survival until they could arrive at the palace. Not that Sif would ever consider the tent complex that they were approaching to be an equal to the royal palace of Asgard, but it was the royal home here in Helheim – and here was where Hella, daughter of Loki, granddaughter of Frigga, ruled as the queen.

Hella had come to her throne early, even for those who lived in the inhospitable climate of this realm. She had been sent to the Helheim royal family as an infant bride to their child prince, as only those who had been raised in Helheim could survive there. The alliance marriage had settled a long standing feud, rumors of Hella's deformities notwithstanding. Any royal girl child would have solved the long feud, but only Odin had been willing to send a member of his family to live, and probably die, amongst the desolation. Sif had thought it because Odin was a wise ruler who was willing to put his people before his family. Now she was not so sure. His treatment of Sleipnir was far from wise or compassionate, and here an early death was all but a certainty.

Sif looked up as Sleipnir finally reached the bottom of the trail. She had to admit, if only to herself, that the walls of the tent palace were beautiful, with a strange shimmery iridescence to them. The barely there color traced from purple to blue to green and back again as the gusts of wind rammed against the thick material. She blinked in amazement as they stopped in front of the guards at the entrance, finally realizing that the material was dragon hide. Now one dragon was difficult enough to kill she knew, having hunted four dragons herself. It would have taken at least six of the largest dragons she had ever heard of to provide enough hide to have created this palace, or two full dozen dragons of the size that she had seen firsthand. Eleven men had lost their lives in the last hunt she had been on, and that dragon had been the smallest of the four she had seen. The tale of the creation of Helheim's palace must be equal to one of the great Eddas. That was all that Sif had time to think before the guards offered insult to Sleipnir. She quickly disabused them of the notion that he was simply a dumb beast at the point of her sword.

Frigga was glad to see that she had been right about Sif. The girl had thrown herself into caring for Sleipnir, treating him as the boy that he was, rather than the warhorse he'd been forced to become. The night before, she had told Sleipnir a hilarious tale of a quest she, Thor and Loki had undergone to retrieve a hammer, one of the ancient vault weapons, that had been lost during a battle. Frigga had wondered at the time just how those three had managed to bring that lost weapon home, and why Thor had been so very reluctant to tell anyone just how they had accomplished the deed. Trust Loki to come up with a scheme that included getting Thor to dress as a woman. Frigga was glad that Thor and Loki had made her a friend all those centuries ago. It was coming in handy now. Frigga strode into the throne room and was immediately engulfed in the embrace of a tall young woman wrapped from head to toe in robes of dragon hide, even her hands were encased in gloves. "Grandmother, what brings you here? Winter is no time for a visit, especially for outsiders!"

"I bring you glad tidings, Hella," Frigga told her only granddaughter. "Your mother lives."